


The Road Goes Ever On

by Book_of_Kells



Series: There are many paths to tread [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Battle of Five Armies, Character Death, Dark Agenda, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Past Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rule 63, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 151,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_of_Kells/pseuds/Book_of_Kells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've got to take the good with the bad,<br/>smile with the sad, <br/>love what you've got, and remember what you had. <br/>Always forgive, but never forget.<br/>Learn from mistakes, but never regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thanks to Hobbity who absolutely rocks as a beta..

 

 

 

 

excerpt from Bilbo Baggin’s journal;

 

_My Mam’s name was Belladonna Took and she was exceptional.  Being as how she was one of the three daughters of the Old Took from Tuckborough, Virginia, adventure had been passed along in her mother’s milk with healthy doses of common sense, sass and curiosity. The Tooks are a playfully dreadful family and while not the scourge of West Farthing, they had an unerring ability to land in trouble of the most interesting sort. I am a Baggins of Bag End, we just land in trouble._

_My grandfather, Gerontius, or Old Took as he was favorably nicknamed, had been the Thain of Shire County or sheriff, mostly in charge of keeping his wild family out of too much trouble.  It was a tradition that the sheriff be called Thain but no one could remember why. So many customs traveled with the original founders of our fair county, that the wheres and whyfors have been forgotten or were legends from the beginning._

_The Tooks in this part of the Shire had the distinction of brewing the best beer in the area.  That would have been alright, but they didn’t stop during prohibition, or after its repeal. Some say it is the local water, others cite that the process they use is softer on the hops and grains.  Whether it be the process or the water, the results cannot be disputed.  West Farthing was for brewing as the South Farthing was for pipeweed._

_My Mam would say that the crazy cousins did what they had to do to support the family because family was important.  I think my Took family likes the danger and would chase it like a deranged squirrel for a laugh. A relative of mine nicknamed Bullroarer, if you could believe that moniker, had been a great military man, fighting in several campaigns in the World Wars before my birth.  Apparently, he was fond of beating the enemy with a club; even in modern times we could be crazier than an outhouse rat._

_But back to my Mam.  She had traveled a great deal in her youth, many faraway places in the world.  She would tell me stories before bed with my father chuckling in the doorway.  They were funny stories of people I didn’t know or would probably never meet, but I had always thought of them as just that. Stories.  It was only later that I learned that most of what she had told me was true. Even at a distance from the subject, they were still horribly true.  My mam, you see, had been a covert spy, something I found out not from her but an adversary._

_One day, we were laughing about something as I helped her cook dinner at our home in Bag End.  I remember it clearly for it was a beautiful day in western Virginia, leaves snapping in the afternoon breeze. There was a special trick to asking my Mam direct questions, evasion was something of an art form to her. But some questions need answers, so I asked one that had been on my mind for a while.  Why, if she had been to so many places in the world, did she settle down in Shire County with my father, Bungo Baggins?  My father was a good man in his own way, I meant no offense in the asking. It just seemed that for someone with such a thirst for life to live here in Hobbiton, West Farthing part, of an otherwise unknown backwater in Virginia would be incredibly stale._

_My mam looked at me quietly for a moment and told me. “When I was a young girl, I met your father at a local fair. He was kind and sweet, just the kind of man I wanted to grow old with.  But I had not lived yet, not really. So when a friend of my Da’s asked me to go on an adventure, I jumped and didn’t think twice. Thinking of your Da was what got me through some tight spots on my adventure, made me want to come home.”_

_It isn’t hard to reconcile my Mam using my Da as her beacon in the night. They were always hand in hand in my life. The sun was warmer then, and they were everyday together. It is a fundamental need in all of us to not live alone. Some animals mate for life, as do some humans. Others take it one step further, like my parents. It was a love that transcended life, breath or reason. A love that breaks you when you aren’t looking. My dear Mam gave me a lot of advice over the years, but one piece resonated in me even after her death._

_She told me. ”Guard your heart, Bilbo.  Guard it well, for no one will do it for you.  If by chance you lose it, you may never find it again or if you do, you will never be the same.”_

_So I guarded my heart well as the long years passed, afraid of that kind of romance.  I remembered the lessons my mother had taught me on survival too, the fun tricks that made me laugh at the time but saved me in my darkest hours later.  After my parents passed on to the next life, I took in a cousin’s child who was now an orphan. Frodo, a sweet boy that I adopted as my own._

_I had thought my Mam’s lesson was of the physical or passionate love one bears for another and to have that love return or not depending on the person in your life.  But the love I had for Frodo was neither of these, it was the love one bears for the child of your heart or a child of your flesh. The love I bore him was for a child that I had failed to conceive but it was love just the same.  It still destroyed me just the same when he was kidnapped._

_I remember that day clearly, too.  Frodo ran to the mailbox after the postman had just done his round up Bagshot row.  I was in the kitchen, cutting some of my prize winning tomatoes for roasting, not watching the row or Frodo.  It never occurred to me to watch, it was a quiet day in Hobbiton. Everyone knew everyone and everyone’s business down to the amount of fertilizer used on one’s vegetables.  Even my arch enemies, the Sackville-Baggins down the street might snipe at my ward but never hurt him._

_Time passed and Frodo had not come back inside.  Off with Samwise again that boy, I remember grousing as I walked to the door.  Pulling it wide, I almost ran into a very tall, very scary man.  He had a skinned head with a small ruff of red at the very top, very military.  His suit was expensive looking but simple, the cut was tailored, with soft costly shoes on very large feet.  He stood an impressive height, well over six feet, which meant he was towering over me._

_He spoke quietly with an accent that I couldn’t place, a mix of inflections on words that didn’t fit from any one country.  Introductions were made, identifying him as Smaug Drake of New Hampshire.  Mr. Drake offered me a job with a handsome salary, health benefits, the whole works. He said all the right things at exactly the right times, answering my questions to allay my concerns. But something started nagging me during this whole interview.  When I put it together, I was so scared I almost pissed myself in my father’s favorite chair._

_My Mam had taught me how to read people, more importantly to get a feel for them.  It was a daily exercise that we did where she strengthened my observation skills but also train my brain to see patterns in behavior.  Years later, Gandalf told me that my Mam had been the best in the business because she managed every situation effortlessly, giving her mark exactly what he or she needed.  She always knew what the situation required at any given time.  I watched Mr. Drake with a sense of growing horror because I had no idea what he could want with me._

_The scars on the hands from fighting, the slightly off center nose that had been broken one too many times. He moved sinuously as if his bones were liquid, able to shift his thick muscle on the fly. Jungle cats have that same walk, a lazy feel as if they have all the time in the world when you have been plated up as what’s for dinner.  Mr. Drake walked into the study. He noted the window, the kitchen door and the poker at the fireplace. Escape, retreat, weapon.  But more than any other indicator, he had the coldest eyes.  A dark amber brown that were as flat as a mill pond. Mr. Smaug Drake, for all his urban sophistication, was a killer and I had just invited him inside Bag End.  Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.  Only I wasn’t the spider now._

_When I refused his offer however politely, he smiled.  Cold fear tickled down my spine at that smile.  It was malice made flesh.  My heart sped up to a thousand beats a minute but hopefully it didn’t show on my face. One didn’t show fear to the hungry monster, else you get eaten one leg at a time. It went on for a moment, that smile, until he pulled an envelope out of an inside pocket, handing it to me.  I opened it slowly, revealing a picture._

_It was Frodo in his favorite Superman t-shirt outside by the mailbox about an hour ago._

_The monster across from me, pulled out a cellphone to dial a number.  He put the phone on speaker, so that we both could hear my ward screaming and crying on the other end.  They had Frodo and my heart shattered in that moment._

_Smaug advised that he knew who my mother had been, knew what she had been capable of in the field.  If I was even half as good as she, I would have Frodo back and our lives would go on as planned.  No fuss, no further intrusion.  He wanted my services, you see.  He wanted something very badly, but to make sure he got it I would have to perform for him like a trained monkey in the circus.  A few trial runs to make sure I could acquire what he wanted._

_The ensuing two years were an absolute rape of my soul.  Though the prick never touched me, kept me out of Azog’s playpen, it was a violation nevertheless that went on and on. I had left that day with Smaug, walked out of Bag End and the safety of the Shire.  My family, I never contacted them, preferring to limit my body count, though Lobelia was an exception. The places I went with him, the things I did, I was sure that I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.  Just when I thought there was nothing left of who I was, Smaug brought me to Dale. Then the real fun started._

_I remember the first time I saw Thorin Oakenshield.  It wasn’t at the MC’s Devil’s Night. Oh no, that was research which became something else.  No, the first time was at a coffee shop in Dale.  He breezed in the door, handing something to a rotund lady in a veil behind the counter.  I forgot to breathe for a moment, my body simply shut down and kissed me goodnight.  I gulped my coffee in order to cover my face as he left, a beanie covering my curly hair._

_Thorin was handsome, I knew from the 8 x 10s Smaug had rammed down my throat on a daily basis. Know thine enemy, blah blah.  Seeing him in the flesh got my attention and my body’s attention in a big way.  He had a long black beard. Gods, I’m a sucker for men in beards.  The scraping feel on your skin is like having another set of hands on all the fun places. Light blue eyes with the crinkled corners and all that long black hair._

_I knew he was my mark, knew that it was wrong to feel like this. But gods I wanted him long after Devil’s Night ended, wanted to know he was mine for more than just an interlude in the long passage of our lives. It was a hard road but if it were easy, everyone would do it.  So I fought and fought for what I wanted. Frodo, Thorin, a life where I wasn’t ashamed of my past or the horrible acts I had committed. The battle, however, swept all my dreams away._

_Writing this hasn’t dulled the ache for me, it is still a sharp knife in the drawer. But it just reminds me that now, at the end of all things, I loved and was loved in return.  I see others: Tauriel, Dis, and Sigrid who have known that same kind of love and became better for it. It reshaped their lives and everyone’s around them, but they fought for it, with everything they had. What they carry with them as a result, what they justified to themselves, is anyone’s guess._

_Love is there, a powerful force that endures until the ending of the world and beyond. It is neither hungry nor sated but consuming you completely. Mam was right, once you lose your heart in love, you are never the same again._


	2. The News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When life give you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile!

January 20

From: <<Fili>>[BlondeBombshell@gmail.com](mailto:BlondeBombshell@gmail.com)

To: <<Kili>>[Blackhaired-Archer@gmail.com](mailto:Blackhaired-Archer@gmail.com)

Subject: News

 

Brother,

I know that I haven’t talked to you this week.  There have been missed calls, but I don’t want you worry.  Mom has been sworn to secrecy because this was my news to tell; not hers.  I want you to know that I am very sorry that isn’t in person or at least on the phone but circumstances being as they are, I wanted you to know as soon as everything died down.  E-mail seem so impersonal, but truly they are the easiest way of getting everything out of my head without interruptions. And you do like to interrupt!

Sigrid is pregnant.

Those three words fill me with such fear, I swear I pissed my pants a little just now.  Things are bad here with the Orc and Spider gangs. Muggings and assaults are being reported once the sun goes down. I had heard that Bard is considering a curfew at least until the winter is over.  Tourism has dropped off so no one is really needed in town except the police.

Sorry, I got off track.  Sigrid told me a week after New Year’s, just showing me the pee stick one morning.  She has been staying here some on weekends since the beginning of December; breaks up the quiet since you moved.  Well, I took it badly, I really did. My head went to that bad place even though I love Sig with everything I have. I asked her who she was fucking and why was she trying to pass of another man’s child as mine. I have that damn clip for a reason.  Idiot Fili, idiot Fili.  But you know, she never said a word. She didn’t say anything, just packed and left.

The following Monday, I went to the doc for an x-ray, just to be sure. I was a month early since I have them every six to make sure that the fucker is still in place.  And hilariously, the clap had slipped.. Slipped and didn’t look right.  I told the doc after that my girlfriend was a few weeks pregnant and I didn’t think it was mine.  He apparently knew who I was seeing, Docs gossip worse than women. He slapped me on the back of the head, telling me to get my head out of my ass and marry her.  There was no way to tell when the clip moved, but he would bet his house that the child was mine.

I want kids, I always did, that was never in dispute. There were certain constants in life, you, Sigrid, work.  Maybe I had not gotten past last Fall completely; or all that shit in Georgia. My stupidity could be blamed on any number of factors, but in the end I made a long drive to Lothlorien to beg her forgiveness.  Don’t kid yourself- I was on both knees in full groveling mode.

Sigrid humbled me, brother, completely. She gave me that saying, you know from the Bible. Love is patient, love is kind.  The whole thing.  She got down on the floor with me, rubbed my beard and kissed me. Then she got up and ran to the toilet to vomit, screaming that I had to stop smoking. (Damnit !)

I don’t deserve her, Kee.  I don’t deserve a woman who can love me so much to forgive my idiocy and overlook my past.  Without a word, without a godsdamned word!  She doesn’t bring it up, I figured she would be dining on that little tidbit for some time. Most women would! But not her. If I hadn’t wanted to marry her before, this cemented the urge.  My intention was to wait until Valentine’s to ask her to be mine but this had thrown me a curve. She has switched to online classes for this coming semester and has moved into the cabin with me.  Sig has only this last year, and if everything stays on track, should graduate in the December.

Bard was livid, just a FYI.  He showed up at The Thror Building with a gun _and_ a crossbow.  When Thorin was told why Bard was there, he got livid because he wasn’t the first to know.  Head of the family shit until granddad shows up, yak yak yak..  He is still peeved that you asked Tauriel to marry you but didn’t discuss it with him first.  Anyway, I have been banned from Dale for a while.  Gandalf said Bard starts foaming at the mouth when my name is mentioned. The wedding is going to be hilarious! LoL. (There are no plans for that yet, Sig wants it to be simple and warmer!)

So, brother-mine, you are to be an uncle... probably sooner than you thought. Mom is overjoyed and has been buying gender neutral things.  She is only about eight weeks along now, but the docs are happy and so am I. 

This is the wrong time to bring this up, but I was wondering if you had given any thought to cutting the shard for me?  I will understand if you don’t have time, Van Cleef has you busy.  You can’t slack off like you did here at Erebor!  I only ask because it would mean so much more to me if you did the set.   It could be one of those heirloom pieces you like so much.  No pressure!

I hope Tauriel is well, please give her a hug.  I think the general consensus towards her is warming now; so not _quite_ Arctic conditions.  Balin, strangely enough, has become a closet supporter, chiming in at meetings about her if your name comes up but always in a favorable light. Sigrid has been talking about going to Paris to see you guys, but I don’t think Tauriel will forgive me if I do… Sigrid has shopping issues, apparently.

 Well, Uncle Kili, I am getting off here.  There is a warm woman in my bed.

I love you, my brother... take care

Fili

 

 

*****************************

January 21

From: <<Kili>> [Blackhaired-Archer@gmail.com](mailto:Blackhaired-Archer@gmail.com)

To: <<Fili>> [Blondebomshell@gmail.com](mailto:Blondebomshell@gmail.com)

Subject: RE: News

Brother,

HOLY SHIT !  I had to pick myself off the floor when I read this!  This is amazing, stupendous!  I am so happy for you both!  Tauriel didn’t believe me, so Mom got a phone call, then she and I were dancing around the apartment like it was Tauriel who was knocked up. Congratulations, my brother!

Don’t worry about Bard.  Sigrid is an adult and he will come to accept her choices.  I can’t say when that will be, but it _will_ happen. I would have thought he would have at least made overtures by now since she hasn’t backed down. This is his first grandchild, he won’t be able to stay away. :o)

Yes, you were a completely mental asshole!  You need your ass kicked … ! I’d do it but I have to work tomorrow! Bifur, Stone and Bombur will be getting emails after this, so there will be a mysterious ass kicking coming your way but you won’t know who or when.  I won’t say you don’t deserve her but that shit was just wrong.  Anyone with a brain could see how much she loves you.  The guilt for what you said is very fitting!  Giving up something that makes her uncomfortable is the least you can do!  Step up, asshole!

Don’t bring up Georgia.  That shit is dead and buried and we pissed on the headstone!  If it is still an issue for you, talk to Sigrid.  If you tell her what happened, she will understand. Plus all the fear you feel will make sense to her.  I don’t think Sigrid is like that numb cunt in Charleston but it will help her understand you!

Send me the shard, special courier.  I have some repair work to do, but I might can squeeze it in when no one is looking!  I want to do whatever I can to make this experience as joyous as it should be for you both. 

Be expecting a package in the next few days.  Tauriel is out right now buying gender neutral _French_ baby clothes.  That right there should tell you how excited for both of you that she is. The woman lives in one of the shopping meccas of the world and she turns green when it is discussed. Anyway, I am sure you are looking at this thinking, the child will never be able to tell the difference between American or French baby clothes.  Probably not, but I like my woman happy.

I hate that we couldn’t come home for Christmas.  Mom had a blast here, going to museums with Tauriel while I was at work. She had said she was going to come again next month for a few weeks and Tauriel has been cleaning like a fiend.  I would say my warrior queen is sucking up to Mom, but I don’t want to get smacked.

It’s good that Balin feels that way or is at least making an effort.  He’s a good man that I respect and if he has a change of heart for Tauriel, that’s great.  Understanding my relationship with the love of my life would be beneficial to everyone involved. But even Mom had said it was probably a good idea that we didn’t come back so soon.  Thorin being Thorin, well it would have been an issue.

I think I will have a beer tonight for my brother, a great guy who will be a great dad! Congrats again! 

You really need to change your email, or else give it to Sigrid. She’s blonde, definitely pretty!

Miss you, my brother. I love you and take care.

Kili

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two chapters overlap in the same time period with Set Fire To The Rain. Until chptr 13 is posted there will be no updates. I do apologize in advance !
> 
> Thank you so much for reading !


	3. The Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 12

I hate a fucking phone, Fili thought as he blindly reached for annoying piece of technology that was vibrating its way across the bedside table. Sigrid moaned in her sleep as she shifted to move with him as he reached for the offending object of his disgust. She snuggled into his back, wrapping an arm around his belly. Grabbing the phone, he glared at the number with scorn. It was 6 am in the damn fucking morning, the sun wasn’t up yet and Dwalin was already piling on shit.

“Yeah.” Fili grunted as he rubbed a hand down Sigrid’s arm.

“Get to Thror. There is a situation.” Dwalin sounded distracted like he wasn’t sure of himself. That had Fili awake faster than a gunshot by his ear.

“Ironworks or the mine?” Fili’s adrenaline started pumping at the thought of either having an incident. All points in both the Ironworks and the Mine had passed the government inspectors last month with the highest marks.

“Hurry up boy!” The line clicked as he hung up with his less than vocal growl. Fili sat up in bed as rubbed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Sigrid asked sleepily as she snaked her way to curl around his upright body.

He brushed the hair from her face to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Nothing, I’m sure. Go back to sleep, love.”

She smiled that dreamy smile that made him mushy inside with happiness. Sigrid scratched his beard as he drew back, tugging a smile from fuzzy depths of his brain. Even in the weak gray light in the room, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Some women were morning people, some were not. Sigrid was happy all day, morning, noon or night. Living with her hadn’t been the hardship he was scared it would be. He didn’t have the frustration of having to adjust his life in too many areas. She had made every effort to lower the jolt of sharing his living space. Fili found that he loved her all the more for everything she did.

The decision for her to move in had been on the fly and totally by accident. Sigrid had confided her concerns after the attack at Halloween by the Orc, Bolg which in turn made Fili very upset. She hadn’t mentioned the incident at the bar, blowing it off as just another creep. But after the attack and Tauriel’s worry, Fili had starting making decisions about his life and where he wanted it to be. Losing his woman to that monster wasn’t an option, Fili could never let her go. January opened his eyes completely. With the prospect of a child on the horizon with a woman that he loved more than life, Fili asked her to marry him to which she accepted. There wasn’t a ring but that was ok too, Sigrid assured him she wasn’t in a hurry.

Until the packages started arriving at the dorms.

Fili happened to be there one day when a box came for Sigrid. She tensed as the Resident Advisor handed it over with a look of sympathy. When she tried to throw it away, Fili asked her to talk to him, to tell him what was happening. Sigrid had handed him the box to open, taking a seat on her bed. Fili had been confused when he saw crotchless lace panties and a pair of handcuffs with a note at the bottom. Had she ordered something for him as a treat? Reading the note made Fili see red when he realized who sent the box. There was a complete description of what the bastard Orc was going to do to her once he captured her. Captured her? He made it seem like a hunt with Sigrid as the prey! The language about breeding and claiming her almost made him sick!

When Sigrid told him she was getting one or two packages a week, Fili flipped his lid. He immediately packed her things and brought her to Erebor. Bard would have to be told about the baby eventually but Fili wasn’t going to wait for that to happen. His woman needed him now, and he would let that psycho get his hands on her.

Thoughts of Bolg wound Fili up faster than Dain now if that was possible. Rubbing his beard, he pushed the bad thoughts away as searched for some warm clothes. He has showered before bed last night due to Sigrid unrelenting barfing. Sometime in the night though, there had been sex between them, Sigrid’s appetite had greatly increased. Fili had planned to shower again before work this morning, not liking to subject his crew to the smell of pussy if they weren’t getting any themselves. Particularly a vag that belonged to _his_ woman. Grabbing some clothes, he hastily changed in the living room, not bothering with the lights. Fili slipped his feet into his boots to finish as he hustled out on the porch.

It was snowing again in thick cottony tufts. The porch had a fine dusting that looked crystalline at the outer edges. Taking out his phone, he sent a text to Sigrid to watch the porch if she left before he got back to salt it. It would kill him if anything happened to her or the baby because of something that he could have prevented. Laces tight on his steel toed boots, he could see the lights on at Durin’s House on the rise behind the courtyard. Thorin lived there alone now since Frerin was away and Dis moved into the courtyard down the row.

The first construction of Durin’s House had been during the lull between British wars in America. The neoclassical monstrosity had been very nicely demolished by the invading British much to the chagrin of the Durinsons in residence. After the redcoats were sent back on their merry way, the remains of the house was salvaged but only the foundation was still viable. Realizing that they never again wanted to be so defenseless, the new house was built like a Swiss hunting lodge on the old foundation back towards the mountain slope. Two passageways were cut into the mine’s labyrinthine shafts as a possible escape route for the family to hide from danger.

The house had been extended over the years to accommodate a growing family but a second story had not been added. Fears of little ones falling down stairs to grievous injury had kept them from utilizing the additional space. A full kitchen and a full bar with various receiving rooms, the house had been the focal point of many summer parties. With eight bedrooms in two different wings, there were lots of places to crash! But since Thorin had shown no evidence of settling down in the last few years nor really had Frerin, the house stood mostly empty since he and Kee had become adults themselves. The old bachelors were too busy fucking their way across the countryside to think about the 2.5 kids and a dog.

The pathway to Thror was still iced over, so Fili walked to the left of the slick stone pavers. The walk was never far from the courtyard, though Fili liked to count it as part of his exercise. The sun wouldn’t be up for a while yet but the brightening sky under the cloud cover said wouldn’t be long from now. It was a gray morning thanks to the blowing flakes that stung his eyes and stuck to his lashes. He could do a nice Santy Claus impression thanks to the rosy cheeks by the time he reached the warmth of the main office.

The Ironworks looked cold from here, their furnaces banked for the weekend shutdown. Whatever had happened wasn’t there, nor was there a scurry of activity at the mine that would say there had been a collapse of some kind. The generators would be online for the flood lights up the reinforced steel grates that closed off the entrance. Dwalin had better not be trying to punk him, Fili thought with a growl.

As he rounded the bend to Thror, two large white SUVs were parked at the entrance with Thorin and Dwalin’s Polaris Rangers to the right of them. The snow was pretty torn up in the parking lot, making Fili feel more and more confused. The area lights were still glowing high enough that he could see that someone had been joyriding in the parking lots or someone was looking for something.

A uniformed man that Fili didn’t know walked out of the main doors. He was dressed in dark navy BDU pants and a coat with a beanie on his head with white lettering. The man wore a basket hilt saber low on his left side though he seemed to favor his left lead. He was tall, a good six feet with a whip thin look of a runner. What he mistook for snow at a distance was actually gray hair in the man’s beard matching the white caterpillars one might think were eyebrows. He had to be Gandalf’s age or close to it. But everything about this man in blue said he knew how to fight and age wouldn’t slow him.

“Morning.” He had a casual air but very watchful at the same time. Fili instantly regretted not bringing his own weapons. “You must be Fili?”

“Good morning to you. And yes, I am.” Either he was a lookout for him or a guard but neither made no sense.

“Everyone is in the main conference room. I am Romestano Luin, a friend of Gandalf’s. My twin brother is inside with them, so do not feel as if you are seeing double.” Mr. Luin gave him a friendly smile to go with the joke but Fili wasn’t awake enough yet to appreciate the humor.

“Ok.” He nodded to the man, as he walked around him to enter the building.

As he pulled the door back, he noticed that Mr. Luin was wearing military grade Blackhawks that had a broken in feel. The heels still had lots of tread but the ladder laced pattern on the laces had worn the eyelets in the front. Boots said a lot about the man, how you take care of your feet is important. This guy was a fighter, his brother might be too, friends of Gandalf’s or not. The grip on his sword was worn with a few nicks on the basket weave, meaning it had seen action. Either by Mr. Luin’s hand or another but Fili was betting on Luin as the wielder.

The receptionist wasn’t in yet, wouldn’t be for a while. But there were was a considerable amount of snow melt on the floor and the long hall to the conference room looked slick in areas reflecting the overhead lights. Fili avoided the puddles best he could but the sudden yelling in the conference room had him missing a step to almost planted his ass on the tile. Thorin was there in the conference room, thundering to someone about having a head mounted over the toilet in his bathroom.

Squaring his body up, Fili launched himself down the hall to open room. Pushing a door wide, it almost smacked into Nori as he stood off to the left. Before Fili could apologize, Dwalin barked his name gruffer than normal pulling his attention.

It was a grisly sight. Two black hard composite containers sat on the boardroom table with their lids open. Fili walked closer, drawn to the macabre display like a moth to a flame. Inside each crate were bones and a skull, charred but the white calcium phosphate bleached through here and there. The larger bones had been zip tied to others, even the jawbones that had separated from the skull had been tied back to it through the nasal bridge.

“Fili! Don’t touch!” Looking down Fili had not realized he was attempting to reach out to the boxes themselves, so stunned by their appearance.

Looking up at the voice, he saw the Sheriff deGray talking to a man who looked like the guard outside. The Luin Twin? Fili looked around the room to find Thorin looking ready to shred someone into powder, so angry was his expression. Dwalin was about the same.

“What’s going on?” Fili looked around the room, wild to try and figure what kind of shit circus they were in.

“These cases were found at the gates three hours ago. The guards called it in thinking they could be a bomb of sorts. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.” Gandalf told him as the Luin twin took a position outside of the window’s view to look at his tablet. “Tests will be performed to confirm the identity… but for now..”

“Its my father, Thrain and my brother Frerin.” Thorin’s voice lashed the room as he took a position beside Fili. “Someone fucking killed my family! These were found with the bodies.”

Thorin opened his hand to revealed two gold rings in the callused palm. Fili recognized them instantly and who they belonged. His mother, uncles and grandfather wore their rings with pride, the markings on the side were of the Durin’s crest and Hammer seal. Tears blurred his vision as he realized that his grandfather and uncle were probably in the box before him. Nothing but their bones.

“Thorin, we don’t know that these are Thrain and Frerin. Obviously, someone got their personal effects but I don’t think…” Gandalf was the voice of reason in the room. But Thorin was past reason and rushing headlong into foolish.

He thundered at the Sheriff, shaking his fist with the rings. “Fine ! Run your tests! But I know my father and brother. They would have to be dead before they would relinquish these rings.”

“It might not be the Orcs. Thranduil has an incinerator, doesn’t he? After last fall, who knows what that bastard could do.” Dwalin’s voice was lazy but he had a point.

“Thranduil would still be outside, pissing on the cases. He wouldn’t have left if it meant fighting Thorin.” Gandalf was quick on the rejoinder but he was also right.

Fili spoke up as he remembered Bolg’s packages. “It’s the Orcs. Thranduil wouldn’t subscribe to psychological warfare, he is more direct. The Orcs want us demoralized, grieving. Smaug knows that we know about the kiln at Mirkwood, leaving charred bones on our doorstep points a finger to the woods but not the mountains. Or at the very least divides our reasoning.”

“Very good, Fili.” Gandalf said with a surprised grin, even the twin looked impressed. “Thorin, if you attack Mirkwood or the Orcs now, you will be doing exactly what Smaug wants. We both know how much you hate that.”

Thorin gave Fili a look as he walked the length of the table. “Dwalin, call the heads of the other clubs. Tell them I want them here at Erebor tomorrow afternoon. deGray, will that be enough time for you to confirm the identity?”

“Well, yes but Thorin what are you planning?” The Sheriff walked to the edge of the granite slab with concern.

“That is not your business.” Thorin snarked at the older man. “Fili, email your brother. I need to know when he will finally get his dumb ass home.”

*************************

Mount Gundabad Military Installation

“Did you deliver the containers as instructed?” Azog continued to fondle his newest acquisition uncaring if his son watched him. The young African girl’s coal black skin contrasted starkly with Azog’s pale.

Bolg felt the need to pace the room, throw something at a wall. Instead, he paid attention to the weak points in his father’s neck and shoulders. The arteries just under the surface, the broken collarbone that could be broken again with the right amount of force. Wanting to hurt his father in such a way, had him almost giddy with excitement. It was always thus in history, the young lion will tear out the mane of the old.

The latest info from the little burglar had advised that his pet was now living at the Courtyard at Erebor. He had been right there! Not a hundred feet from her! He could have settled this hunt, and right now be balls deep in her sweet pussy! There would be a steel collar around her neck, wool lined of course but with a medallion etched with his name, hanging at the throat. She would have to earn the gold and ruby collar on her knees.

Azog’s head snapped in his direction. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

“I did deliver them as ordered.” Bolg almost had to bite his tongue from continuing with sarcasm. Azog had long past pissed him the hell off. “My pet is staying at Erebor now. I want to go get her.”

He didn’t bother to phrase it as a request, that would make him look weak. Stating his intentions would have a much better effect as an attention getter. Strength was something his father respected, something he looked for in others so that he could grind them down for it. Bolg quivered in his insanity, the long life he had led boiling down to the moment where he could take his father’s place. There was no peaceful retirement in store for Azog only a dark bloody end.

“No. We do not attack their base yet. I want them to feel safe, until they finally understand the truth of this situation. They live because Smaug lets them live.” The smile stretched the scars on his face into a grotesque mask, making the girl at his feet cringed away. ”Come, little meat. I feel like playing a game.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I am changing up my format with this story.. Instead of inspiring quotes or poignant song lyrics that match the mood of the chapter, I am going with dates. Those dates will be very important because there will be a timeline involved for one of the characters.. so much to do so little time..
> 
> The Twins Romestamo & Morinehtar Luin are the Blue Wizards, I made them as twins for simplicity. T/G lists their first names and meanings as east helper & darkness slayer 
> 
> Thank you so much for comments, kudos and continuing to read my screwed up version of Middle Earth in America ! :o) This story will start ramping up as Set Fire to the Rain comes to a close.


	4. Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuary 13

Loud grumbling already filled the boardroom as Thorin and Fili walked through the doors.  Fili realized as he slid behind a few Iron Hills members to get to the foot of the table, that it would have made more sense if they’d had this meeting at the clubhouse.  But looking at his uncle taking a seat at the head on his granite throne with its purple velvet cushions and gold accents, Thorin wouldn’t have had the same position of power in a hardwood chair, no matter how comfortable.

“Gentlemen. Thank you for coming. As you know, the bones of my father and brother were returned to Erebor yesterday morning.”  Thorin’s eyes were bloodshot. Coupled with his scratched and bruised knuckles, he wasn’t taking the deaths well.

The charter heads sat for a minute, not quite sure of where to look or what to say. The Firebeards and Stonefoots President and VP bellied up to the giant slab of a table turned aside with their head down in respect. Thrain had been an oddity amongst the Tribes, his ideals not popular. But he was Durin’s folk, a son of their founder, Thror. His death while expected was still a blow.

Frerin’s was the one that really brought out the sadness. He had been strong in life, but quiet, more rootless than any of his kin or Durin’s Folk. It had been he who had requested the trips around the world looking for new geodes and opportunities for Erebor, the mine and the ironworks. Frerin Durinson had the vision to be a pioneer that would have led them into a new era of gem expansion. But that vision was now gone, dead as the man who dreamed it.

After months of no word, it was a blessing to finally know the truth. Thrain and his son, Frerin, had passed from this life to the Halls of Waiting to be united with their ancestors. At least, their family would be allowed to grieve and move forward one blessed day. Thorin had come to Dis last night, all hurts and anger forgotten in their shared loss and pain. But pure rage had rose with the sun this morning, rage that their father and gentle brother had been slaughtered. Fili noted all the grim faces in room as it filled to capacity. They knew why they had been invited to attend the meeting.

The bones would be taken to Erebor mine in a week as was tradition. The remains would be held in state for that time, so any who wished to pay last respects were allowed. The actual burial was a family affair, taking a large elevator down to the Silent Street tombs. An abandoned mine shaft had been converted to a mausoleum by a long ago ancestor after the British had laid waste to what they considered trouble makers. Deep holes had been dug out of solid rock for the Durinson family’s final resting place, covered with a plaque of the person’s living history.

Fili had not thought of the Silent Street in so long. His mother had taken them once due to a school project, telling stories of those that she had known or was told by family. One day way off into the future, his children would walk his bones down to the same shaft and lay him to rest. Sigrid when it was her time and their children. Kili and Tauriel would be buried there, so would their children. Generations resting together under the charcoal grey carved arches that lead to the heart of the mountain. It was depressing and comforting at the same time.

“How do we know that the bones left were Thrain and Frerin? I mean no disrespect, Thorin.” Zirak of the Firebeard charter raised his hands in supplication at the sneers from others at the table. “I know you would hate to lay to rest in the Silent Street those who were not Durin’s folk.”

Fili watched Zirak who for once had a valid point. The Firebeards were not known for their subtlety. Quick to anger but also quick to forgive, they made up the bulk of an impressive fighting force. Fili remembered Frerin joking that if Dwalin dyed his beard, he would fit in with them like eggs in a carton.

“Zirak, raises an excellent point. Thank you, my old friend.” Thorin nodded magnanimously. “The Sheriff called this morning, DNA confirmed who they were. Plus, these were found in the boxes.”

Thorin tossed two necklaces down the length of the table so that the other members could see. Fili already knew what they were, having seen them up close yesterday. The gasping pain of seeing them here and not on the fingers of his loved ones was still too near.

“There are those of you who may remember the signet ring of Erebor. We have many traditions here on the Lonely Mountain, some going back to the original settlement and some back even further. When the settlement was founded by my ancestor, another Thrain.” Thorin gave a smile to the group as he left his chair to walk passed the seated members as others pressed back to give him room. “He forged a great ring from the gold found in the mountain to be worn by the head of the family, passed on from Durinson to Durinson. A symbol of unity and continuity.”

Thorin picked up the heavy gold ring by its chain, letting it dip down to the end. The large square diamond weighed in about four carats. It was impressive but it was supposed to be, a ring worthy of royalty or the ruler of an underground kingdom. The facets caught a sunbeam from the window, flashing to the assembly and the pale beige walls.

“I never asked for the ring to come to me. I refused to allow it to be taken from my father whilst he lived. Thrain may not have been head of the Erebor Mine and Ironworks but I still looked to him as my patriarch. Upon his confirmed death, I take the mantle and the responsibility of my family.” Thorin wasn’t finished, Fili knew now this was a coronation more than a meeting.

“Everyone in this room knew my brother, knew his love for us. When Frerin turned eighteen, he fashioned three rings out of the same gold and rubies that have made Erebor what it is today. One for himself but one for my sister and me. Something to bind us together as more than just a family but to plant us firmly in the land that had given us so much.” Thorin lifted the second necklace to show the crowd the golden circle at the end winking with blood red rubies. “The fact that this ring is scratched means my brother fought his captors until the end. Only death would have taken this ring from him.”

Holding both rings in his fist, Thorin walked back to his throne at the head of the table. “I loved my father though I didn’t always understand him. I loved my brother the same way.” He tilted his hand with the chains wrapped around his bruised fist so that everyone could see the similarities between the ring on his finger and the one that lay by his wrist. “I am not foolish to believe that I can do this alone. Nor would I wish to place the lives of my sister and her sons in danger.”

Fili fought the bristle that threatened to shake loose his control over his tongue. Thorin had not forgiven Kili yet, still snarled when his name was mentioned. The jab about his nephews’ safety was just that, a jab. But this was his circus, he could be the ringleader all he wanted.

“I would ask you gentleman, will you help me avenge the deaths of my father and brother? For we all know who would be so bold as to kill my family and leave their bones upon my doorstep!” His voice rose in volume as he spoke the incendiary words to the masses, almost shouting by the end.

“What say you, gentleman?! I call for a Havoc vote!” Fili felt every part of him clinch at the words as the room erupted into chaos.

A Havoc vote meant war. A long bloody destructive war. The last Havoc vote had been ten years ago due to unfortunate things that happened to some local girls. But Fili was older now, didn’t thrill so much at the idea of battle like he once did. Age has a way of changing your perspective and experience is another kind of teacher that young and reckless never understand. Youth wasn’t invincibility. Plus, Sigrid would never forgive him if he died. The gorgeous, irrational woman would hold a grudge until she passed as well so that she could harp at him in the Halls of Waiting.

But more than just Sigrid, there was their child. He wanted to live to see his child grow, to have a family with the mate they loved. Watching Thorin as the contingent howled like wolves for the blood of the murderers, Fili knew that things would be set in motion that could not be undone. War would touch them all, leaving scars for the rest of their lives. For their enemy wasn’t some Dunlendings out for a good time and hell raising. These were Orcs, their battle hardened foes.

Fili blanked his face, not letting his concern show to the assembly. Until Thorin produced a child, legitimate or otherwise and that child was named heir, Fili and Kili were the Heir and the Spare of Durin’s Line. An affectionate moniker since they were children, it carried a host of weighted responsibilities that had broken more heirs than it should. But it also meant solidarity. Fili would have to respect Thorin’s rule in public, in private he could argue until he was blue in the face. Not like the effort would do any good.

Many in the clubs accepted the dissent of last fall as an airing of family laundry more than a contesting of Thorin being head of Erebor. Fili could see Balin’s fingerprints all over that ingenious spin on information control. The crafty old solicitor’s subtle nudging had suggested to the right ears that Dain was the one to start the rumors that were making the rounds in certain circles. Gossip of angry family squabbles had spread amongst iron ore buyers and steel contractors to sow distrust and allow the Iron Hills President to put forth a vote of no confidence in Thorin to the board. Fili had been told in no uncertain terms by Balin and Thorin that he would toe the family conga line or he would be reporting to Dain. _Directly_. Fili got the message in triplicate, keeping his mouth shut. Barely. Whether or not it was true didn’t’ matter, Thorin was still in control and still making the decisions.

The members of the Seven Tribes shouted their assent, some banging on the granite in agitation bringing Fili back to the situation at hand. The mass frenzy of the bikers stirred the air already thick with the different colognes and body odors into a conflagration strong enough to burn the nose hair permanently. They would have war, they would raze Mount Gundabad to the ground for the atrocity that had been committed. Smaug and all who threw their lot in with him would be crucified in lines of crosses, marching up the slopes of Erebor.

Yak, Yak Fili thought as the men continued to yell and scream, many of them shoving back their chairs for a better chance to stomp and swagger the length of the room in wild displays of aggression. It was a full freak show now as the club members bounced ideas of torture on captured Orcs, most of it just turned his stomach. He sought Balin’s eye, finding the old man with his courtroom expression firmly in place. Just that look spoke volumes of about what was going on upstairs in the advisor’s head. He had known what was coming, but had not agreed.

Staring at the men he had known all his life, he wondered which one would be the first to fall. Would their funeral be as elaborate as the ones that would be staged for his granddad and his uncle? Would his? How many would go to the Halls of Waiting for their final judgment or be alive to help the survivors?

The questions circled his mind over and over, gaining momentum to stoke his fiery anger. Fili wasn’t ready to die and leave his family and his love. There was so much more to this life than what he had seen so far and he wanted to experience it all with Sigrid and their kids. Christmases, family gatherings with little blond haired ankle biters chasing dogs through the meadows with their black or redheaded cousins. And Kili….what would happen to his brother so far away?

The poor guy had been shaken on the phone yesterday, breaking down before he got off the line. Frerin was the dad Kili remembered, not Finn Dwarrow with his happy go lucky smile that he had passed on to his youngest son. Frerin had gotten Kili on the right path, helped him focus when Fili had failed. Thorin and Frerin both had been there for him years ago when Fili’s life had blown up on him in Georgia. So many memories of a great man that his own child wouldn’t have. Kili’s children would never know the lengths that their great Uncle would have gone for them too.  

His brother had been vague on the phone, not giving him specifics about his intentions. Fili had let that pass due to shock of the horrible news. But when he got an email early this morning, explaining what he would do, Fili had balked immediately. Kili wouldn’t be coming, at least not right away, but Tauriel would and she would be on a flight in the next two days. He would send Fili the information on the flight as soon as he knew, Tauriel would explain more when she arrived.

Gloin had told Fili this morning as they walked to Erebor that he had finally gotten in touch with Gimli at Berkeley, yesterday afternoon. The poor kid had been beside himself with the grief but Gloin had been emphatic that he wanted the younger Durinson to remain in California until they knew for sure everything was safe for him to return. No one could say with absolute certainty yet how far Smaug’s reach extended, if anyone was safe if they were scattered. But on the other hand, the idea of having all the Durinson eggs in one basket might be too much of temptation for the Red bastard to ignore for long. Kili and Gimli being out of the epicenter might be the best thing for the time being.

It was the not knowing that eating at Fili’s guts each night. What would happen to his family tomorrow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cry Havoc and let slip the Dogs of War!
> 
> I have shamelessly stole the term 'Silent Street' for the burial mausoleum at Erebor from Minas Tirith. It was just too pretty and Paris already has cemeteries with lovely French names...
> 
> In Sons of Anarchy, particularly in the Last Season (sniff, sniff) they would have what was called a Mayhem vote or Meeting Mr. Mayhem. It was basically a death vote and everyone had to agree. I wrote this to be more in line of a war vote though mayhem and havoc are synonyms.


	5. The Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 14..

“Hello boys.” Tauriel called from the door, drawing every eye in the room.

Once upon a time she might have had some trepidation at being in this room with them. Not fear of them physically, for she could hold her own in a battle. It was the hate she saw in their eyes for who she was, the icy grind of anger on her skin. She was Thranduil Sindarin’s daughter, nothing would ever change that fact. But she loved one of their own and that deep love made her tolerate them.

Kili’s birthday was today and she was missing it. There had been a full day planned just for him. Dinner at his favorite restaurant, a boat trip down the Seine with the two of them snuggled under sheepskins for warm…. And other things. Tauriel had to be content with leaving his presents on the bed for him when he got home. Life sucked!

“Where’s Kili?” Thorin’s voice whipped at her from his throne as if he had the right. Three and a half months had not slid past Thorin Durinson, he still held his anger towards her.

“Paris.”

Tauriel clipped reply echoed through the room, jetlag was not her friend at the moment. The mental filter that separates the smart assed side of her brain and her mouth crumbled under the weight of exhaustion. The drive from Lanconia took the last of her reserves, so coming here might not have been the best idea on the planet. She took a spot down the long granite slag from them, needing the distance from the pack of Erebor hyenas. About ten Durin’s Folk members mixed in groups with others, some she didn’t know. The clusters of men spoke to each other at varying levels past the point of being unrecognizable to useful in any degree. Fili watched her with a closed look, they would talk later.

“When is he coming?” Balin asked with a concerned look as the papers in his hand twitched. They were still scrambling, she thought.

”With Frerin dead, we will need him back. Now.” Thorin told her in no uncertain terms. The conviction of his vanity rang in each word he flung down the long table at her.

“Kili has an important commission with Van Cleef. Leaving isn’t a possibility at the moment. So I came in his stead.” Tauriel didn’t look at them as pulled some paperwork out of her carryon bag.

“What do you know about gemwork?” Thorin sneered as he looked around the room at the others. His agitation was beginning to show by his leg shaking from the adrenaline.

“Nothing. But I do know that Smaug and his buddy Azog are targeting Durinsons. The Drakes have killed Thror, Thrain and now Frerin.” Tauriel looked at Thorin, angry that it had come to this point. “Could you imagine the possibility that I would allow Kili to be in the same country as that monster, let alone the county?”

“Have him a short leash, do you?” Dwalin had a slow drawl that might be sexy if he wasn’t such an ass. Tauriel thought about holding him down and giving him a nose ring, then yanking it out.

“Right now, Kili is sitting in a reinforced building with round the clock guards. The only way he could be safer would be if I was there as one of the guards.” Refusing to bite at Dwalin’s bait, she still grinned at him with a shark smile of her own. “Don’t mistake me. If I thought sending Thorin to Smaug, giftwrapped with a pink bow on top would make this whole shit storm stop, I would do and sleep well tonight. But it won’t. He won’t stop until he gets the mine.“

“How do you know this?” Balin said fearfully, drawing her attention.

“Look at where he’s been? Africa, South America, Myanmar. High conflict areas for Azog to play but also high quality gemstone deposits. He was the largest supplier of Conflict Diamonds until the trade was resolved. The fact that he has been here on and off for so long is a really bad sign. It means he considers this his retirement, his last hoorah.” She looked at the faces around the table, watching as her words sunk in. “You said it yourself here in this room that he had offered for the mine and not the ironworks.”

They knew she was right, Balin’s expression hadn’t really changed which meant he knew already or had guessed. Smaug wasn’t going away, he would have to be killed. Not just him, all of the Orcs or they would keep coming too. The men in this room had sat back and let that monster gain a foothold in their backyard. Now it would be war, a bloody one to get him out and have their peace again.

“Smaug needs to be answered for what he did to Frerin. That means today. Fili, unless you care, I am taking Kili’s old room and catch a few hours sleep. I will leave tonight after full dark. Dwalin, two cases will be delivered by courier this afternoon. Give him his packet.” Tauriel slid a thick manila envelope from her across the table to the tattooed man. “Do not open the envelope or the cases. I will be back later for them.”

Grabbing her carryon, Tauriel handed two small binder clipped piles of paper to Balin as she passed. He looked at her oddly for a minute as he gave them a cursory look. Fili walked away from Thorin to take Tauriel’s bag from her as well as ones by the door.

“These are in French. I don’t…?” Balin looked at her confused.

“Mine and Kili’s will.” Tauriel nodded to him as she walked away. She didn’t see his look of shocked despair or hear Thorin’s angry grunt.

**********************

The walk to the courtyard was invigorating, the wind pushing them to and fro. The late morning sun shone a dark gray through an overcast sky with snow predicted in the late night onwards to dawn. It was as if the Valar had smiled on her finally, gifting her with another reason to go tonight. With bad weather, there would be less patrols if any at all. Hopefully, she might have a jump on Smaug after all. There were no illusions that he would know she was here, if not now then in the next few hours. Erebor was twisting in grief over the deaths of two of their own, Smaug in his laziness may not expect a strike so soon.

Fili had told her he would drive but Tauriel need to work out her leg cramps. The flight had been a killer, stuffed in coach beside a man who smelled of rotten garlic. The commuter from Boston had been blessedly short, she figured she would have been homicidal if she had to wait. The cold walk also gave her some perspective on what they were facing with security on the ground. Tauriel wasn’t sure how much anyone would listen to her but she would close as many gaps as she could find.

Fili had known she was flying in, having talked to Kili last night. He hadn’t pushed but had backed off instead when Kili told him Tauriel would explain when she arrived. So much had happened in the last three months, it was a whirlwind that never seemed to stop. The agreement between she and Kili had not pleased her at all, but this was his family. Tauriel would not be able to keep him out of it completely, no matter what she had lead the others to believe.

Sigrid had moved into the courtyard three weeks ago due to her pregnancy and Fili’s heightened concern. Bard had been livid when she switched to online classes in order to do so, moving out of the University dorm. He had been murderous when told he was going to be a grandfather, showing up at Erebor with a crossbow and a two handguns. Gandalf had arrived, talking him down while Fili left to go home to Sigrid. The poor girl was crying rivers ever since.

Bolg had not given up either apparently, according to Sigrid’s emails. The Orc managed to get one of her personal email accounts from somewhere, sending message after message. Fili had not found out yet about the emails, but he would go apeshit once he did. Tauriel had told her friend to tell him but Sigrid refused, worried that her volatile honey would be even more worried and homicidal. Bolg had gotten her old cell number also or so Tilda said. Bard changed the number immediately when the disgusting little goblin refused to stop calling.

All and all, it wasn’t good. Bofur was now attached to Sigrid for protection during the day, sitting outside with his pipe or his flute. Thorin had agreed once he heard she was carrying the next generation of Durin’s Folk, wanting a heavy presence in the courtyard anyway. Bifur would do foot patrols in the late afternoon for another set of eyes just in case. If the Orcs were bold enough to drop off the bodies on the doorstep, they might just wade in like they owned Erebor already!

Tauriel could see Bofur on the porch ahead, pipe in one hand and a steaming mug of something in the other. He rose with a smile once Fili and Tauriel passed into one of the utility lights closest to the courtyard proper. She had not known him last fall, never really meet him. But like most of the MC and the others they had kept their distance out of respect for Thorin or outright anger at her and Kili. She didn’t blame him then nor find it in herself to resentful to the others. It was a nasty mess, one that didn’t look like would resolve itself anytime soon.

“Evening.” He told them with a deep rasp. “All’s well here.”

“Mom been by?” Fili asked as they trudged to the porch, lugging her bags.

“Left ten minutes ago, coming back with cake since she heard …..Tauriel was here. Very excited she was.” Bofur nodded in greeting though the pause at her name made her wonder what others called her in private.

“Ok. Bofur, come inside. Who is at the Ironworks?” Fili asked as he mounted the porch.

Bofur dumped the embers from the pipe’s bowl into the bucket of sand. “Stone that I know of. Dain left for the Iron Hills an hour ago. Gloin is sitting with the Missus in Dale tonight until closing. Bifur is home but on the porch. Everyone else is at Erebor. “

Fili opened the door to the cabin, holding wide for Tauriel and Bofur. A gasp to her left had Tauriel spinning to the sound. Sigrid crashed into her like a poodle on crack, jumping up and down at the same time trying to give her friend a hug. Tauriel laughed with her dropping her things to the floor to hug Sigrid properly.

“I am so glad to see you! Fili told me you were coming today I just couldn’t stand it. Had I known which flight I would have come to pick you up!” Sigrid’s happiness was infectious, spreading to everyone but Fili.

“You know you can’t leave, not right now!” Fili wore a panicked look, reaching for his woman as he put one hand on her belly. “You know the rules!”

“Rules?” Tauriel looked from Sigrid to Fili in confusion. “Are things so bad here? I thought Bolg had sent a few calls.”

Fili and Sigrid looked from one to the other for a minute. “No.” Sigrid said with trepidation. ”Its been worse than that.”

“First things first.” Fili said, looking at Tauriel. “Kili’s not coming to the funeral?”

Bofur took a post by the door, looking at everyone with a confused expression. Sigrid took a seat on the couch, leaving Tauriel and Fili squared off in the center of the room.

“He can’t. He accepted a commission for Van Cleef just before Christmas for a very high profile client. He should be finished in another three weeks but I am betting he will be in less time. His boss, Michel Glorfindel, has been really grooming him for this so there is no way he can walk out.” Tauriel huffed a sigh as she tossed her braid over her shoulder and remove her coat. “Sigrid, I really hate to impose but do you mind if I stay….”

“Oh my gods! I can’t believe you would ask! I would track you down if you tried to stay somewhere else!” Sigrid snorted at her friend who laughed in turn.

“Do I get an opinion?” Fili looked at Sigrid with mock frustration to which Tauriel and Sigrid responded immediately, “No!”

Bofur for his part laughed at the byplay. “Laddie, be glad they get along. It would be hell for you and your brother if they didn’t!”

Fili, Tauriel and Sigrid snorted at the man who just laughed the harder for it. It was well known that Bombur’s wife wasn’t exactly Bofur’s biggest fan, going so far as to put magnesium citrate in his lemon squares. All because Bofur told her once she was entirely too fertile. But with six kids, it wasn’t a lie!

“Thorin wants Kili back, has been expecting him since I called him.” Fili said quietly. “Your showing up will have thrown him for a loop.”

“I don’t have time to care about Thorin. I really don’t. Kili has an ironclad contract with Van Cleef, I think he did that for just this reason. If he tries to leave, they will sue him back to the stone age.” The adrenaline high was starting to wear off, the caffeine swing had ended once she landed in New Hampshire. Exhaustion started graying out the edges of her vision.

“Shit.” Fili and Bofur both said after a silent exchange.

“You are just about dead on your feet. Take tonight for some rest. Smaug isn’t going anywhere.” Fili took her arm, snapping her back to her awareness.

“I don’t have the time. I have to kill as many as I can before Kili gets here and he _will_ come. The more that are dead, the more time it will take to regroup before they can strike again.“ Shaking her head, she continued through gritted teeth. “I want to shatter the Dragon’s spine by the end of the week. Make the bastard hurt.”

“What are you planning?” Fili asked with no small amount of apprehension. It was obvious he had forgotten this side of her.

“I am going to pay Mount Gundabad a little visit tonight.” The cold look on her face made the outside temperatures feel tropical. Tauriel could see the same look on Sigrid’s face as she sat on the couch.

Fili’s eyes bugged out in horror. “You can’t! That’s suicide!”

“I can and I am. It is the last thing he will expect. If I wait until just after midnight, everyone will be settled in for a cold night. Durin’s folk will be locked down here. I have been getting information on the facility over the last two months. The lastest and greatest of security probabilities will be in one of the cases delivered this afternoon.” Tauriel told them in short order, a bed was calling and she needed to check her bow case before she napped.

“Ok but I am going with you!” Fili told her as he walked into the kitchen. “You will need back up.”

“No!” Tauriel and Sigrid said at the same time almost in sync before Tauriel continued. “The only way I managed to get Kili to agree to wait until he finished was that I do everything I can to protect you and Sigrid. There is no way I am taking you with me!”

Sigrid huffed a sigh of relief only to earn a snarl from Fili which she returned. “You can’t go alone!”

“I’ll go.” Bofur said from the door. “I’ll go with you.”

Tauriel have him a look. Bofur had a good build, would be able to handle himself in a fight. But where she was going, what she would need to do tonight, that same size couldn’t help her at all. Stealth was required on the ground and in the trees, at best he would be good at driving the car.

“I want you to take Stone too. He is pretty decent with a bow which will give you some distance.” Fili pulled out his phone, texting quickly. “Not as good as Kili or you but good enough. Maybe Nori should go, no sense not having someone who is slick with their fingers. What you think, Bofur?”

“I don’t need a fireteam. Too many will call attention.“ Seeing that she was starting to lose control over this situation, Tauriel tried vainly to make a valid point. “I don’t need boots on the ground. Just someone to get me there and out quick.”

Fili gave her a look under his bushy eyebrows. “Do you really think I could ever look at my brother in the face again if something happened to you? Bofur drives with Stone as a backup. Final offer.”

“Let’s make a deal.” Tauriel nodded to Bofur as she walked to the bedroom to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok.. Tauriel is back and not afraid to kick some butt lol.. There is a definite reason that Bilbo calls her the Wild Card, the unknown variable.  
> A few things...  
> I read somewhere when I was doing research on Bombur that he was likened to have about 13 kids. I thought that was hilarious so I put in the story that he had 6.. 13 seems excessive .   
> I couldn't resist giving Kili a birthday on Valentines.. soooo mushy !
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	6. The Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 14th that evening..

Tauriel’s delivery was waiting for her at the ironworks. While the intelligence of putting high explosives in a place where they could be touched with burning metal or fire was not really discussed in detail, a good head smack would have made her feel better. She was sure that if they had known, the cases would have been stored somewhere else, way out of her reach. Two large black hard plastic totes stood stacked to one side, against the wall. The cases themselves were fireproof to a relatively high temperature but Tauriel took the precaution of requesting they be moved before she cracked the lids.

Dwalin and Nori gave her a hand, since they were on rollers though there had still been grumbles from the boys as they followed her. Tauriel carried her bags, one contained her Winwin bow that she had left at Erebor and a spare that held her clothes. Once inside a breakroom away from the sparks and welders, only then did she take the keys from Dwalin to verify the shipment. Fili had still asked for Nori to come, kept campaigning that he could sit in the truck but not actually go into the forest. Tauriel refused to back down even when he starting making noises about calling Kili in Paris.

She tossed back the last of her coffee, the liquid had been tempered with cream so the heat was negligible. Food wasn’t an option yet, her body wasn’t on US time. Tauriel had downed a protein drink as soon as she woke up, at least to have something on her stomach. It wouldn’t serve her to get sick in the forest especially the smell and the noise would carry to the Orcs guard dogs. The less disturbance the better at this point.

Tauriel had called Kili before her nap, hearing his quiet voice thousands of miles away brought the waterworks in high style. They spoke of his gifts and how much he loved them. She had bought him a new Hoyt to use as well as a membership to a range outside of the city.  They made plans to take a trip to Normandy but that got changed to Switzerland because Kili wanted to teach her how to ski. The image of the two of them curdled before a fireplace made her long for him that much more.

She had not told him of her plans, couldn’t dump the worry on him. After last fall when Legolas shot her, Kili had been seriously overprotective. If he knew, he would be on a plane right now to stop her. As tired as she had been, thoughts and feelings raced through her active mind. Sleep took its sweet time before knocking her down, waiting until the tears had passed. It sucked being without him, but it gave her a purpose at the same time. It was for him, she thought over and over. It’s all for him and Fili and Sigrid. Smaug had to know, learn real quick that there are repercussions for messing with those she loved.

Stepping forward, Tauriel unlocked one case then the next, flipping the lids open to rest against the back wall. There was a thin layer of dark gray foam on top for shock absorption in each case, a wrapped package within a gift. The arms dealer who had ‘imported’ her shipment was the best in Europe but also just as expensive. Pushing the foam out of the way of the first case, revealed smaller plastic cases stored in the same dense foam. Tauriel took the top three identical ones to the table behind her.

Opening the boxes, she felt the instinctive need to shield herself from danger even though the slightly larger than normal broadheads arrow tips were wrapped in plastic. The white finish looked menacing, even to her. The damage was total if they were utilized properly as well as sparingly. Where the arrowheads had been stolen, Tauriel wasn’t going to ask but she was glad they had been. These prototypes had been conceived by someone who had watched too many Rambo movies as a child.

“What are those?” Dwalin asked as he looked over her shoulder.

“They are called Whitefire heads. The tips are packed with Thermite plasma as an explosive round but the back of the head here,” Tauriel pointed to the widest part of the base. ”is full of White Phosphorus.”

Dwalin and Nori’s attention snapped to her then back to the heads, Nori taking a step back from the table. The fact that they both knew what Willie Pete was made her smile. Maybe, the three of them should talk sometime about weapons.

“Those are illegal!” Dwalin snarled at her, enraged. “Have you lost your mind?”

Fili looked closer at the box before Nori pulled him back with a shake of his head. “Legal or illegal. That is a gray area.” The long haired man told him quietly.

“What’s White Phosphorus?” Fili asked in confusion as he looked at her. He had no idea about chemical weapons but when why should he?

“Bad shit!” Dwalin continued to bitch knowledgeably, his former military experience showing. “You can’t use that here!”

“I’m not. Its going to Mount Gundabad.” Tauriel looked Dwalin full in his pissed off face. “What?! Did you think I was going for a tea party!”

She walked back to the case on the right for the shafts, specially weighted so the flights were straight but short. The arrow would be heavy, she realized as she screwed the streamlined titanium lengths to the fletchings. She would need to be close before she let them go so as not to waste them. Tauriel placed two boxes of three Whitefire heads in the sling bag beside her before she went back to the box for the hand claws.

The next container she pulled were the ones she had been hoping to get. Halbarad had not promised that would be included but he would make every effort. Looking back into the case, there were four others with the grey X on the top. Breathing a sigh, Tauriel felt a short smile ease across her lips. Grabbing another bag of disassembled shafts with another grey X’d box, she walked back to the table.

“I’m scared to ask what these are.” Dwalin said as he took the shaft bag from her to put the ends together, looking down the length to make sure they were true.

“These babies are called Infernos. The coring heads drill in but are packed with Thermite, see here.” Tauriel took a shaft from Dwalin to show them. ”There is a small wire in the fletching for the remote detonate instead of on impact like the Whitefires.”

The slim remote was below the Styrofoam bedding containing the three heads with a watch battery taped to the back. One didn’t want an accidental explosion if one could help it. The heads would stay in the pack for now, but she went ahead to slip the remotes into an inside pocket of her fitted tact vest that she laid on the table to the right. The remotes, she would prep while enroute.

Looking in the bag’s interior, Tauriel began to pull the cold gear she had brought with her so that she could change clothes before they left. The dark blue color would be form fitting for maneuverability but the fabric would keep her warm in the low temperatures. The thermal gloves were fitted for the same reason, couldn’t have numb fingers and try to shoot a bow. The long table was quickly filling up with her gear as she took stock to make sure she didn’t forget anything.

Turning to the other hard plastic case, Tauriel flipped the lid to take a look inside. Taking two boxes out and a tablet, she walked back to the table. She mentally counted what she had and the weight of what would be on her back before she walked back for another hard plastic case. Dwalin was crowding her again, trying to look at her toys.

“What are these?” He started to touch the box but Tauriel slapped his fingers with a sigh.

“NVGs. Night vision goggles. I will have a pair and whoever is driving will have one. No lights on the highway. We are going to have to park a good three miles out but the vehicle will have to keep going and I will run it in. I have an idea of their external security. But I can’t take the chance that there might be cameras on the roads.” She looked at each one as she flipped the lids open to out the black nylon bags. “I need batteries to test before we go.”

Fili walked out of the room to the right while the others looked at each other. She couldn’t read their minds but Tauriel knew that none of them had been on an operation like this. Mirkwood would do mock intrusions every year, rather like war games with a bonus going to the winner. But the foresters had never tried to penetrate Mount Gundabad, tonight Tauriel wished they had. The intel she had was good, but that didn’t always include everything.

Fili came back with two new packs of batteries. “Try these.”

Sliding back the covers, Tauiel popped in the batteries to turn on the NVGs as Fili hit the lights. They fit snug at her face but that was necessary, any stay light was blinding.

“Good.” She proclaimed as the world took a green haze around her.

Making sure that each case was loaded properly, Tauriel handed the spare box of night vision goggles to Bofur who took them with a bob of his flappy hat. Taking the cold gear, she toed off her shoes before leaving the room. A woman’s restroom was just off the hall complete with shower and cabinets for things. She emptied her bladder completely in one of the stalls, making sure to wash her genitals afterwards to cut down on the odor possibility. The Devil was in the details which was a good thing she had a high dose of OCD.

Tauriel stuffed her clothes in an empty locker, deciding she could come back here afterwards. _If she came back_. She walked to the sinks were her clothes were piled, taking a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. The idea of what she was about to attempt would have had a normal woman shitting herself by now, probably some of the men. But Tauriel didn’t have the time or the inclination for feces cleanup. She would leave that for Dwalin. Halbarad had helped with her plan and liked her chances, so it was enough.

Pulling on the tight long sleeve shirt and leggings, she would need a coat at least until they dropped her off in the woods. The turtleneck fit snug over her breasts bound as they were in the Under Armour athletic bra. Her long tactical coat would be fine but it would smell like the repellant she still needed to apply to herself. Padding barefoot back into the breakroom, there were a few discreet wolf whistles thanks to her tight outfit as she braided her hair close to her skull.

Tauriel methodically packed her sling bag. It would lay across her back from the opposite shoulder of her quiver. She couldn’t take the chance of clipping the arrows to her side as it could hit a tree or a sensor at an inopportune moment. The bag itself would carry all of her toys, so Tauriel had to make sure it was manageable but secure on her back and didn’t impede her drawing ability. She took her quiver out, tying the special shafts together so she didn’t pull one of them by accident if there was a need for one of her corning head arrows. The exploding heads would be attached onsite for less chance of blowing everyone to kingdom come before she wanted them dead.

Tauriel took a spray can from her bag handing it to Fili as she turned. “I need to get this stuff all way down my back and legs even my hair. The Orcs have a guard dog breed they are developing called Wargs. Very keen sense of smell with an overdeveloped vicious trait. This will distract them.”

A slight dusty smell filled the air as Fili moved the can up and down her back. “I can’t smell much. What’s it made of?”

“Bear. Freaks them out. If they are roaming inside the fence, they will run from me. Not in the mood to be a chew toy.” There were pictures of the Wargs in training. Definitely didn’t want to get too close to those massive jaws.

Tauriel took the can when he finished, spraying her front. She walked around the room to help it dry on her body. She would need to sit as far from the others in the truck as possible so that their scents didn’t adhere over the repellent. Her tact vest went on next, the bottom zipped snug to her hips. Her thick socks came over the leggings up to her calves as a minor layer of protection. Taking the last thing out, the guys starting grumbling at shoes in her hand.

“Those are ugly.”Ori told her as he walked into the room, eyeing the malformed soles with distain.

“They are based off skeletoes shoes. See reinforced bottoms so that you can run in them like sneakers but they go up to the calf like a boot. Grey Company has submitted for the patent too. They are great!” Tauriel smiled at him but Ori still didn’t get it. She would be able to move in the forest quieter now without the extra weight on her feet.

“You won’t have a lot of protection if you step in a trap.” Dwalin observed. “I heard they have spring traps on the perimeter.”

“I have heard that too. All the cameras that I was told about are low on the forest floor. So I will have to go high up and hope they don’t have vibration sensors in the trees like Mirkwood does.” Tauriel told him as she pulled on the fitted boots. Looking down, she knew Ori was so right, they were hideous.

Tauriel began strapping on her knives, waist, calf and upper thigh. She tucked a folded karambit knife at her nap as Dwalin handed her a radio and throat band for comms. Once the fireworks started, she would have to get out as soon as possible. The Orcs would be on the hunt for the intruder so she would be running for her life. It would be close as well because the arrows didn’t have long flight time due to the heavy heads.

“You don’t have to do this. I keep saying it but I don’t think you listen to me.” Fili told her as Tauriel took Dwalin’s thick North Face Jacket before he could protest.

“Yes, I do have to do this. Now, let’s go. The night doesn’t last forever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okkk... This was more of a filter chapter until she actually hits Mount Gundabad.. Tauriel the badass
> 
> I thought it would be interesting to have her working for the 'Grey Company' a spin off of the 'Istari Group' in Paris. Grey company were comprised of the Rangers of the north and Elves and others during the LOTR


	7. The Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After midnight February 15th

The mood in the SUV was subdued. Tauriel didn’t know either Stone or Bofur well enough to ask about personal things in their lives but it felt cold not to at least try. She knew that Stone was still seeing Ori MacDurin, a fact reinforced by their R rated good bye kiss at Erebor Ironworks. Ori had always been polite to Tauriel last fall, hopefully he spoke well of her to his lover in the ensuing months. Bofur was quiet too, though she remembered Kili saying he could be very chatty if alcohol was involved.

The heat was off in the vehicle with Tauriel sitting in the very back storage compartment. The men sat in the front two seats with Stone holding his crossbow pointing down in the floorboard. She had made the suggestion of him sitting there on the drive up but taking a position behind Bofur once she got out. The rear seats had more room and would not impede him if he needed to shoot. Stone had acknowledged her with some trepidation.

Tauriel pulled the notes she had brought with her to study on the way. Using an LED flashlight under a blanket, she looked at the map again for weak points. Azog and Smaug had chosen their spot well, a military installation that had been closed due to budget cuts. It was located at the northern end of the Misty Mountains with the Greylin river to one side for a defensible break. Everything was already prepared right down to the barracks and razorwire. The tree line had been cleared close to a thousand feet initially by the Department of Defense and maintained. The latest and greatest stated that the Orcs had been slack, letting the forest encroach to within a hundred feet of the outer fence line.

Spring snares and Bouncing Betty land mines had been planted in the forest as well in the young trees just past the razor wired fence line. She would have to pick a sweet spot, an old tree to perch in for this to work. Talking out the hand claws, Tauriel sealed them into a vest pocket for easy reach. It was another five minutes before they came to the Langwell Turnpike that went past Mount Gundabad.

“Once we get to the Turnpike, reduce your speed. There won’t be any police here but Orcs do patrol the road. I want you to stop half a mile once your turn onto Gundabad Road. I will tell you were. From there I want you to turn off your lights and drive the rest of the way with the night vision goggles.” Tauriel spoke slow but she could feel her blood starting to pump in her veins. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. “Mount Gundabad will be on your left side, lit up like a Christmas tree. There is an old service road three miles away, I want you to wait for me there.”

“Three miles. Isn’t that a little far?” Stone asked as he turned in his seat as he watched her stuff her braid into a tight knitted cap.

“When you see the first explosion, be ready. It will be followed by another, then there will be simultaneous blasts. I need you here by the last three explosions.” Bofur looked at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes worried. “Stone, I need you sitting behind Bofur when you roll up. I will be coming out the forest on the left side of the main gate.”

“Got it, Obi wan.” He said with a nod.

Both men strapped on their comms, discretely checking them to make sure they were good. The radio frequencies were confirmed as they made the left onto the Turnpike. Bofur slowed down as ordered keeping an eye on traffic. Tauriel did a last might check as she slid into the back seat behind them. Pulling on her gloves, she knew she was ready.

“I won’t say don’t go. But I will say good luck, lass.” Bofur told her quietly. “You do us proud.”

She smiled, she couldn’t help it. It was like getting what you wanted for your birthday. Bofur’s sentiment meant a lot to her because the MC meant the world to Kili. She knew that he missed it, missed his motorcycle and the wind in his face. But it was the unity he missed most of all. The brotherhood that they had formed together at Erebor of so many characters and odd personalities, made on impact on him. She wouldn’t let her love down nor the ones he called his family. Even Thorin.

Bofur made the left to Gundabad road, turning off his headlights. Stone handed him the night vision as he drove slow to get his bearings. There was no traffic tonight so close to midnight. Most of the cars on these roads went back and forth to the town of Angmar to the North, using it as a shortcut to Woodland highway.

“Stop here.” Tauriel told him with her hand on the door handle.

“Good luck.” Stone said with an anxious grin as Tauriel leapt from the slow moving vehicle.

Quickly without looking back, she darted into the trees, jumping over the ditch and any possible junk or glass that was on the roadside. Mirkwood hid sensors in old plastic bags so that they looked like trash until you stepped on them. Some bags even contained paint bombs. Once she was out of sight of the road, Tauriel knelt to get her direction. The SUV’s engine faded into the distance as they drove away. Bofur to his credit hadn’t gunned it but slowly accelerated on the road as they left.  

The forest here wasn’t like Mirkwood’s. There was an insidious feel in the quiet dark without an animal or something to break the stillness. Putting on her own NVGs, Tauriel scanned the snow covered forest floor. The shoes gripped well in the slush and stiff snow but it was the thermal socks that would keep her feet warm. Switching to thermals, she picked heat signatures at chest height about seventy five yards out.   The cameras. They would give off their own heat in the cold night just like any other electronic would.

Looking down at the bases of the tall trees, Tauriel could tell there wasn’t any animal life here. No tracks in the snow or scratches to mark territory. Odd unless they were doing patrols with the Wargs in the woods. She knew that they let the canines out between the two fence lines but that was too far away to scare off the forest creatures. Getting a good look at the terrain, she slid walked through the needle pocked white, looking to identify the trees as she passed them. She would need an Oak or some other hardwood with thick upper branches. Anything but a pine whose narrow trunks would never work for what she wanted.

Slide walking was something she had learned on the job taught her in Paris. Scooting her foot forward then, pushing the heel out reduced the chances of stepping directly on spring trap or a razor snare but not the Bouncing Bettys.   If the wire prongs at the top of the land mine pushed out the safety pin by the glancing move, all you could hope to do was lay flat and not on another mine as the steel ball bearings shredded everything in a four foot radius. Tauriel made sure she paid attention to what might be mounds or thick clumps under the melting frosty blanket.

As the heat signatures got closer, she flipped the goggles back to the green haze of the NVGs. Just like she had thought, Mount Gundabad was lit bright in the distance, not blinding but she wasn’t that close yet. The low hum could be heard in the still night for what she could only assume to be generators. If they had them running tonight, the noise might cancel any that Tauriel made in the forest. Hoping that her luck held out, she kept going.

The cameras were now within three yards but they were fixed, not moving. Tauriel spotted a hickory tree to get her started as she looked up its long truck to where its branches fought for position in the canopy above them. It had some age and looked sturdy. Pulling on her hand claws over her gloves and making sure her bow and bag were secure, Tauriel climbed the trunk to the first set of overhead branches. Breathing through her nose to keep the white plumes to a minimal, she gritted her teeth against the strain. Taking a seat on a sturdy limb, she flipped back to thermals to get a good view of the camera placement.

It was a sporadic pattern, she thought at first until she started counting the distance. They had been placed at intervals to allow for the drop cords that she could make out once she took the headset off completely. There were no solar powered cameras or backup batteries like what Mirkwood used. Edenithil would horse laugh them out of existence if he saw the shoddy installation they had. Shaking her head, Tauriel couldn’t fathom what the Orcs were thinking. Drop cords, even industrial ones, would corrode over time when left out in the elements. Animal life would have been discouraged but they would always come back. She was just about to start going forward on the limb when she noticed the monkey wrench in her plan.

A just of wind had gone past her from the west, ruffling a few strands of hair at her nap. But a bell like clink came from her right. Looking sharply in that direction, the NVGs detected movement but the thermals showed no heat. Pushing up the goggles, she cursed when realized what the mercs had done. Instead of putting vibration sensors on the trees for as secondary measure, the Orcs had tied bottles to the outer tree limbs filled with marbles and Christmas bells. Just as effective as the sensors but without the heat signature that would show up on a scan. Tauriel watched the bottles sway a little as they hung by their necks from a branch. She was willing to bet her last pair of knives that the Wargs had been trained to key into the noise and bark like crazy.

With a sigh of irritation, she looked along the branch she was on to see if there were any wires or lines attached before picking the next tree. A large Walnut was in her path as she inched forward on the strong limb. She had planned to use the canopy of branches to get above the cameras so that she could get as close to the compound as possible. Now, it would take longer.

She chose her limbs with care, checking to see if there were any bottles hanging before moving on. Tree limb to branch, she walked or sometimes crawled on her belly but always moving forward. It was beyond tedious though rushing when she was so close, would only get her killed. Tauriel had allowed herself an hour to get into position and it seemed as if it took longer. She adjusted coarse only once, having to use a large birch tree to stay off the forest floor so she could get within range to the middle of the compound.

Finding a perfect Walnut with no visible bottles or other nasty surprises, Tauriel climbed around the tree to get a good look at the site. She was still at the tree line, a good hundred feet away. There were two large pines that still had some icy needles on their branches which would obscure her. Looking forward, there were three watch towers but only one looked manned, located on the far side near the river. Smaug and Azog must have thought their little presents in the woods were enough of a deterrent or at least a redneck warning system. The river had been idea but the bottom had been lined with mines according to some intel plus the cold water would be too uncomfortable. The river itself and the exposed meadow wouldn’t have allowed for an easy evac.

Turning back to look at the ground, she could see a few mounds not far away, possible mine placements. Tauriel grabbed a few walnuts from a branch and stuffed them into her pocket. Taking off her bag, she took out a bit of rope to do a fast lope around the trunk then her waist. It would be a poor man’s repel but she had to be quick. Next came the Infernos broadheads. Tauriel balanced the box on her knees as she leaned back against the tree’s thick trunk. Screwing in the three heads, she put the remote into her mouth so as not to lose it.

There were only three so they had to count. Picking her targets, carefully Tauriel fired off the Infernos down to the right corner of the barracks, the underside of the closest watch tower, and the generator that shook so hard that it looked like it was bouncing off its concert pad.

The loud generator had indeed disguised most of her passage in the trees. A branch had dipped under her weight to hit another one with bells attached. The light twinkling noise had been audible to her but not the large shaggy dogs that roamed near the far end of the fence line. Tauriel could see a few guards at the riverside section but the light thud of the arrows had not gotten their attention. They had either ear protection or the generator had blown their hearing.

Slipping the empty box back in the bag, she pulled the Whitefires. Tauriel found herself having to breathe deep before she started with these. It was enough that they might kill her before she fired off a shot. Methodically she screwed in the six heads, staggering them in her hand at different heights so as not to touch, not even by accident. Looking back over the ground once more to pick her route, she pulled the bow from her back as she stood up, planting her feet on two limbs with her back to the tree. With her dark clothes, she blended but a direct spotlight would pick her out in the bare branches.

Tauriel watched the Wargs as they paced the fence corner. They were restless, either they had her scent or had heard something. She knew that they could be released from the fence after the first blast, so every shot had to be fast. The Infernos would be the last ones to go and could be detonated while she ran for her life. Like her friend Teal at Grey Company had said, the Wargs were a shaggy nightmare on greyhound legs. They were fast, lean to the point of emaciation. If they got those jaws on you, it was game over.

Tauriel took one of the loaded arrows, doing a few test draws to make sure she wouldn’t get her arm caught behind her. She could rapid fire the arrows but not if the follow through was cut off. Satisfied with her positon, she looked down to the long drop below. Tauriel tugged on the rope one last time to make sure it was secure. Looping her bag over her shoulder once more, it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she held it and fired the first arrow.

The explosion hit on target, a set of diesel drums by two guardsmen. The white phosphorus mushroomed from the blast enveloping the men. Tauriel didn’t stop, couldn’t waste the element of surprise. Three more explosions destroyed the left end of the barracks, the fence corner with the Wargs and a side gate. Men raced all over the compound as pandemonium ensued. Tauriel fired the arrow at a transfer truck, blowing it sky high.

Taking the rope, she dropped out of the tree as spotlights lit up the forest. Shaking out of the rope, Tauriel shot forward for the road. A loud baying commenced as the Wargs were released, later than expected but now they were coming. She could see them racing in her direction through the young trees, their large bodies bending the small trunks as they passed. They were faster than her as she neared the mounds of dirt, not five yards away. Tauriel slammed the walnuts down as she jumped over the piles to duck down behind a large tree.

A click and a buzz saw noise exploded in the forest as the Wargs screamed in pain. The metal slammed into the tree behind her and trunks on both sides, cutting the top off a sapling. Tauriel yanked the remote out of the pocket setting off the Infernos as three more explosions blazed in the night sky. Peeking behind her, she could see the Wargs or parts of them on the ground as flash lights bounced in the distance. The Orcs were in the trees too with more Wargs on the way. Taking the knife out of her calf sheath, she took off the road not too far away. The fires and screams from the Mount Gundabad were loud as the sound travelled to her but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

Clicking her throat mic, Tauriel huffed. “Bofur! I’m coming in hot!”

A razor snare caught her left leg, the barbs cutting past the material just below her calf as she neared the road. A quick swipe with the blade in hand and she was free again. Tauriel was breathing hard from the fear and adrenaline as she burst from the trees at the road. Looking first left then right, she spotted Bofur and Stone crawling up the road to her right with the lights off. Jumping the ditch for a second time, she made the road and took off for the SUV at a dead run.

Stone pushed open the side door for her as a big car came around the turn. It wasn’t speeding but Tauriel took a chance that it was an Orc.

“Bofur, bright lights now!” Tauriel screamed as she drew back the last of her Whitefire arrows. Bofur complied, blinding the oncoming vehicle as soon as it was close.

She released the shaft as car swerved to the right giving Tauriel the perfect target. The explosion rolled the car over until it landed upside down, crunching in the icy ditch. The wind created by the car’s roll pushed the White Phosphorus into the treeline, away from them. Stone and Tauriel sprinted at the car as an Orc tumbled out of the driver’s door, disoriented from the blast. Still holding her knife, Tauriel slashed down his face as she spun to hit him with her bow’s riser. The Orc fell to the side, as Stone stabbed the other Orc who stumbled out in the neck. Arterial spray coated him as the body dropped, causing Stone to flinch away.

Tauriel started to head back to the Bofur when the back door opened and a woman dressed in tight muted black fell out of the backseat into the roadside brown sludge. Getting up to her hands and knees, she coughed and groaned as she looked around her. There was a good sized bump swelling on her forehead as she tried to stand but fell on her butt once more. Stone ran around the car looking like a something out of a slasher film, blood all over himself and his clothes. Tauriel didn’t think, she grabbed the woman and began pulling her towards the SUV. Bofur was looking very agitated out the window.

“No! No! Please, I’m fine. Just let me sit for a moment. Wait!” The woman screamed as Tauriel threw her into the backseat and climbed in too. Bofur didn’t waste time as he slammed his foot on the gas, the SUV jerked as the big block V8 kicked in. The woman began to fight, trying to get out the speeding vehicle.

“You don’t understand, I have to go back! Please!” Stone tried to hold her from his side but it wasn’t working. The short woman was wigglily.

“Enough!” Tauriel’s right hook spun the woman’s head to the seat, knocking her out completely. ”Good night, sweet princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my... I have to admit I skulked a bit at writing this because I was worried that I would have the wrong feel. Either there was not enough action or too much with the landmines. Stone is Dain's son, in the books he is called Thorin 'Stonehelm' but I nicknamed him Stone because I have one Thorin already ! He will be come one of Tauriel's band of brothers in this destructive little adventure and I loved him completely. But he lives so that is all to the good.
> 
> Warning: I have killed off 2 of my characters in this story with a plan to murder 5 more. These aren't Florean Fortescue murders(my HP geekyness rears its head), they serve a purpose at the end result. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my humble efforts!


	8. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 AM February 15th..
> 
> Warning !!!! If you have not read Part 2, I'm Bound To You, the story will become confusing. This is a continuation of certain threads that began in that story.
> 
> Hello Bilbo... :o)

She was bored out of her aching skull. Sitting in this locked hell of a bland conference room, Bilbo had an epiphany of why office jobs were called rat races. The maze that scientists used to train the rats was the same color as the walls of the room she was sitting. It was a depressing parallel.

Tauriel or the wildcard as Bilbo privately called her, stuck her in this stark box with no windows, locking the door as she left. Sitting at the table, she had counted at least three ways out that didn’t include the door, so locking it was rather an insult. Maybe it was a control thing, or it could have been a test. Who knew with that weird redhead. Smaug would be in full freak mode after the attack with most of the larger buildings damaged or destroyed. Yet another Drake had underestimated another Silvan, history on repeat.

Possessing more than a normal amount of curiosity, Bilbo decided to wait and see who would come by to have _The Talk_ with her. Getting pulled from the burning twisted pile of metal made a few people in this building think they had the right to expect her to answer their questions. Considering the wildcard at socked her in the jaw, it made her Bee than inclined. The jumping idiots were too blind to see that anything she said would get back to Azog or Smaug at some point. Half of the women that floated through the club house were getting paid or blackmailed to pass along what they overheard from the MC members.

The door opened behind her, the air currents in the room swirling to catch up. Tauriel walked in the room first along with a tall older man with a long gray beard. She knew him as deGray, the sheriff of Rhovanion county. Surely they were not so stupid as to involve the local police, Smaug would just roll right over the boys in blue without a second thought.

But as she watched, deGray gave an impression of a different sort. The watchful disturbing type. Her Mam had always said there are those who watch and those who listen but few who can do both. This man looked like one of the few. He had a complacent expression, neither happy nor sad. The Sheriff had a twinkle in his eye that reminded Bee of a benevolent grandfather who snuck you a candy when your parents weren’t looking. Tall, with a meandering grace that one sees in a Jaguar past its prime, she wasn’t fooled that he wasn’t hiding deadly claws, razor sharp for the unwary.

Another presence entered the room, closing the door but knocking on the panel itself. A signal, a lock engaged somewhere causing Bee to roll her eyes once more. deGray caught her response with a smile easing the shaggy beard to the left. Bilbo opened her mouth to say something about the ridiculousness of it when an odor curled about her tongue and up her nose.

Metal, heat/burning, and musk.

She knew those smells, knew what they were individually as well as who they could be associated with on a person as a whole. The knowledge that he was in the room, had her adrenaline in overdrive. The flight response was so strong, Bee put her hands under the table to grab her legs. She wanted to run, leap up to the ventilation shaft above and mouse her way out of the building. But she would have to wait for that opportunity. She would have to wait until they relaxed. But in the interim, Thorin had to leave this room. Bilbo knew that she could never hold her resolve under the weight of that heavy cobalt gaze.

“I suppose introductions are in order, mistress Baggins.” The sheriff told her with a kindly smile. While Thorin stayed behind her at the door, Bee watched the other two avidly.

“I know who you are, Sheriff.” Bilbo told him quietly. “But how do you know me?”

“I wonder if you know my name but you do not remember that I belong to it. I was Gandalf when you were a child.” The kindly smile was still there, peppered with amusement.

“Fireworks…” Bee said with all the wonder of a childhood memory brought to life. “You had the best fireworks. I remember my mother’s party….”

“I did. I also gave your Grandfather Took these earrings.“ Gandalf pulled a locket out of his pocket by its chain. As he popped the latch, a pair of diamond earrings dropped on the table.

Bilbo scooped the shiny orbs, smiling in her tears. The locket had been taken upon her arrival by the thief, Nori, as she had been searched. She feared never to see it again. She looked to Gandalf now to say thank you, but caught him staring at the pictures inside.

“I have heard things… About my mother since I have been here. The two of you worked for the CIA.” The comment drew Tauriel’s gave to her then it switched to Gandalf in amazement.

“Oh. No, no.” Gandalf closed the halves together, handing it to Bilbo. “No, my dear Bilbo. We worked for the Istari group. I was her handler. We did jobs for the CIA and Interpol on occasion.”

The silence that ended his words was more contemplative than oppressive or it was to Bee. The attention shifted in surprise from her to the man before her. Gandalf might be a sheriff now but he had a long and varied past. Memories piled on top of memories as another section of the tapestry her Mam had woven with her stories became clear. A handler was no more than a glorified go between, a layer of smoke to obscure principals involved.

“Bilbo, why are you working for Smaug?” Gandalf asked gently, his voice soothing as he took her hand in his. “No one in the shire has seen you in the last two years. Why would Belladonna Took’s daughter work for the enemy?”

“He has Frodo, Gandalf.” Bee gasped the words as she began crying in earnest, staring at their joined hands. “I would never do it otherwise!”

It was too much, all of it and she couldn’t take any more. A flood of tears washed down her face, the dam pulverized by his simple touch. Just when she thought there was nothing left, that every part that identified her as a human being had been gorged out, Gandalf found an ember in the darkness and pulled it into the light. Old friends have that power, the same as childhood memories of kindness. He let her cry, handing her a pocket handkerchief to blow her nose.

“Who is Frodo?” Tauriel asked as Bee got herself under control.

“Her nephew and ward. Where is he held, Bilbo? We will find him for you.” Gandalf asked with concern. “We are not trying to hurt you. We are trying to help you.”

“I don’t know. Smaug has him at his place. I get thirty minutes a week with him on Skype, so that I know that he is ok. They never bring him to Mount Gundabad.” Bilbo took a bottle of water that Tauriel offer, drinking about half in one shot.

“Smaug is living at Mount Gundabad.” The voice behind her said. Thorin still had not walked into her view.

“No. He has a house somewhere in the mountains. I have never been there, or I have gotten Frodo myself. Azog and Bolg go to Smaug’s house but no one else.” Bilbo refused to turn to look at him, particularly now after her spectacular breakdown.

“The Misty Mountains?” Tauriel asked with a confused look, taking a position behind Gandalf near the corner.

“Yes. Frerin had been camped not too far from it. I remember the guards joking about how Frerin could have pissed on the tulips in Smaug’s back yard.” At the mention of Thorin’s brother, Gandalf and Tauriel both looked behind her. She wanted to eat her tongue at her stupidity.

There was nothing, as if a void behind her sucked out all emotion from the room. It was hard for Bee to think Thorin was so detached from himself that the mention of his brother’s murder didn’t even stir a breeze. That sort of compartmentalization would leave lasting scars.

“Where were you coming back from?” Tauriel asked abruptly. “The Orcs who were with you wore Kevlar. You were in burglar clothes.”

“Dale. Smaug has been very interested in Bard Bowman. I was supposed to break in and see if there had been any new shipments and of what.” Bee had forgotten that they understood the concepts of interrogation. She was giving them everything if they could help with finding Frodo.

“He wants to see if we are stockpiling. We would never use Bard that way.” Gandalf assured her quietly, lost in thought.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re decent people, not like your enemies. Bolg has been wanting anything on Bard’s oldest. Sigrid. He has me in Dale often for any scrap of info.” There was a stirring from Thorin as he finally walked around the table. Bilbo let her gaze fall to the table.

“We might could use that, Gandalf. Kill Bolg, cut out one of Azog’s lieutenants. Fili would sleep better at night.” Tauriel looked contemplative too, mentally forging a plan.

“Keep Sigrid away from Bolg. He has very scary issues. He doesn’t know that Sigrid is pregnant yet but it is only a matter of time.” Tauriel’s attention focused suddenly in Bee’s direction at the mention of her friend, making the Bilbo very uncomfortable.

“Bolg won’t come near her.” Tauriel said in a cold voice and an even colder smile. Bee blanched.

“Do you know if Smaug is making any moves on Mirkwood?” Gandalf asked with concern. His thick wooly eyebrows were bunching as a frown began in earnest.

“No. He has the Spiders keeping tabs for the moment. I think he is a little afraid of Thranduil but doesn’t have the right leverage yet. He says he learned from his father’s mistake.” Bee shrugged, they were getting into old news now.

“What mistake?” Tauriel asked. “I know Thranduil killed the Drake family. It would have made sense to go after him first.”

“Smaug wants the Arkenstone first. He wants what his father failed to achieve. I think once he has it he will go after Thranduil eventually. He was so happy when you moved to Paris, it was like Christmas for him.” Bilbo explained, not sure where this was going.

Judging from the confused faces in the room, they were not sure of the information either. Tauriel looked at Gandaulf who stared at Thorin.

“What does the Arkenstone have to do with Thranduil?” Thorin took a new position across from her, demanding eye contact.

“Nothing as far as I know. Thranduil killing the Drake family was about Merethen not the diamond.” Bilbo was staring to get confused herself by the different threads of conversation.

“Wait ! What!” Tauriel shouted as she leaned across the table at Bilbo. “What does this have to do with my mother?! Start at the beginning.”

“What are you talking about? This is old news.” Bee felt herself shrink a little in the chair as the tall redhead started foaming at the mouth and pace with agitation.

“Enlighten us.” Thorin’s voice lashed out, startling Bilbo more. Fear was an excellent motivator for spilling your guts.

“Well..Smaug’s father wanted Thorin weak. It apparently was just after your father…left.” Bilbo began hesitantly, no sure of Thorin’s state of mind. Looking at Gandalf was a safer bet. “Smaug’s father knew that you were seeing Merethen, that it was serious. So he had her killed, hoping your grief would make you rash.”

“My mother was killed in a car accident. She drowned when her car went into the Cereduin!” Bee snuck a look at the angry woman. The rage was a living thing on her face as she stalked back in forth behind Gandalf like a caged tiger.

“It was staged. Her car was forced off the road. Two Orcs were waiting at the banks.” Bilbo closed her eyes, dreading the next part. “When she swam ashore, they dragged her back into the water and….”

The screaming was terrible as Tauriel began grabbing chairs, slinging them against the far wall. Dwalin pushed inside the room when the first chair hit, a hatchet in his hand. Tauriel, seeing the open door, stormed out of the room. Her screams echoed back into the room as she stalked away.

“How do you know this? Who told you?” Gandalf asked with obvious pity as Dwalin closed and locked the door again.

“Smaug. He was gloating, saying that he wouldn’t make his father’s mistake. Smaug’s father didn’t know that Thranduil loved her too or that Tauriel was Thranduil’s child. I think there was a witness who told Thranduil about Merethen. That is why the Sindarin went to war with them.” Bilbo slumped once more in the chair, afraid of what she had said.

“He killed her to get to me.” Thorin’s voice was quiet but held more agony than she could fathom. What a burden to carry, knowing that a woman died because you loved her.

Gandalf got up from his seat quickly, crossing to Thorin to put a hand on his shoulder. “No! No! Thorin. Merethen is dead because an evil man inhabits our world. None of this is your doing, Thranduil took the revenge.”

Thorin nodded to show he understood but leaned his head in the corner, closing his eyes. Bilbo’s heart broke a little for him, knew that this was hard. All of it. The Durinson’s were a stubborn family, they would never tamely submit to the Red Dragon with Thorin at the helm. Smaug was pulling everything he had to this endeavor, money, people, extortion. Bildo didn’t want to think about what happened in Azog’s playpen and that was just to keep him happy!

“I am going to talk to Tauriel. She will drive to Dol Guldur in anger or try to blow up what is left of Mount Gundabad.” Gandalf took his pipe from the table, giving Bilbo’s shoulder a squeeze and a smile. “Thorin, be nice to Bilbo.” Then he was gone.  

For a few heartbeats there was nothing. No comments, just the steady breaths of two people in a small room. Bilbo could hear shouting through the wall, Tauriel had not calmed yet. Probably wouldn’t for a while. But who could blame her? It was frightening that none of them knew this before now.

“Devil’s Night at the MC. Was that business or pleasure?” Thorin asked finally as he looked at her, shutdown emotionally.

“Business required I get information on Erebor. Doing a diablo sandwich with you and Dwalin, well, that was pleasure.” Bilbo smiled in a mocking way, hating herself for the duplicity. But damn, those two men knew how to please a lady. “You have to admit that the catwoman costume was appropriate.”

“You left that morning after…” Thorin stopped trying to pick his words carefully and not say too much.

Bilbo said it for him, to provoke but clear the air. “You mean after Dwalin left to pass out. When you stopped fucking me and starting making love?”

It was a sore subject, she could tell. Neither of them had thought to be so moved by the experience. How could they have formed a connection so quickly? Two days and two nights, they had spent together in that flop room. It was the happiest she had been in so long, the pain of leaving had been substantial.

Thorin was throwing off sorts of confused and pissy vibes, refusing to look at her now. Not many men could take hearing that sort of thing and take it well. He may not want to use the words ‘making love’ but fucking isn’t tender, never like what they had experienced together. He remembered her gasping his name, the happiness of just the two of them. Bilbo could tell where his head was for hers was there too.

The warm showers with the two of them under the spray as he kissed her slow, nibbling on her lips. Thorin telling her that he would love to tattoo his name on her thighs. Thorin’s genuine smile as they watched old Little Rascal reruns in the middle of the night as he held her. Thorin who had managed for a little while to escape the heavy mantel of the Lonely Mountain.

“Why did you leave?” He startled Bilbo out of her memories of that night which used to be harder than now. Bilbo hadn’t let her guard down in so long that when she did, it was confusing.

“What?” She looked up at him stupidly.

The blank face before her showed her nothing, but even that gave her ideas. Mam taught her that a smart man lets a little quirk here and there get passed to fool you into believing he is human with human feelings. Those were the most dangerous kind because you could never be sure of what you got. An emotional man will give nothing away, scared that something will be used against him later. You have to find the right lever to pry away the lid to make him give you the secrets he is so desperately trying to hide.

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this that night?” Thorin didn’t approach her, still keeping the table between them.

“You weren’t making any noises about what happens once your itch was satisfied. I am not going to put Frodo at risk just because I had an orgasm.” It was a knee jerk smart ass thing to say but Bilbo was tired and didn’t care. Poke the lion and see what he gives up.

“I hope Smaug will appreciate how thorough you are in your dealings.” Thorin made his way to the door, not looking in her direction.

“Ask him yourself. Once I get Frodo, I’m gone. You two can fight over being King under the Mountain all you want.” Bilbo groused as she looked for the soft points in his hard shell. “What happens to me now?”

“I have no idea.” Thorin told her honestly as he knocked on the door to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say a great big Thank You to everyone who have stuck with me !
> 
> I had always intended that Tauriel's mother was killed by Smaug, from the beginning, it gave Thorin & Thranduil common ground later to fight. When I decided to write sequels, I pulled all of the elements about Merethen from the story. I even gagged Thranduil from saying anything because I felt if Tauriel knew that her mother had been killed, she would never have left for Paris but stayed to fight it out. Her and Kili's relationship wouldn't have advanced without tearing into whatever alliance Thorin and Thrandy started. I wasn't ready for Tauriel or Kili to die yet and they would have. Plus I really loved that whole Mirkwood thing where she told Thranduil off and goes back to Erebor with Kili.. Anyway..
> 
> Yes, Bilbo's gender was switched. I didn't make up my mind until the new year on that point, so up until then all references to "The Mirkwood Burglar" were written gender neutral. When I decided to add Bilbo as a female, I tied her in to the Devil's Night catwoman who would have been nameless but the plot line exploded from there with ideas. Bilbo's journal inserts here and there are becoming a source of amusement and sadness.


	9. Accommodations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 am February 15

Of all the meeting rooms in all companies in the world, she had to be sitting in mine.

Thorin made it back to his office on the second floor without having to make any life and death decisions. He had managed to keep the shellshock off his face while in that tiny box of a room but there was no way it was gone completely. He had vague impressions of a few employees with looks of alarm on their face once he had passed them.

But that wasn’t her real name either. Gandalf had called her Bilbo Baggins, an odd name which panicked him with a momentary lapse in reason. The delightful fear that he had spent two nights with tranny back before Halloween last October would have ensure many sleepless nights. Considering that Thorin remembered having his head between those muscular thighs sucking her clit until she screamed herself hoarse, Thorin knew for a fact that Bilbo was a definite she. Giving a girl a masculine sounding name must be a southern trait, he concluded.

Thorin plopped down in his chair, almost wanting to scramble the neatly stacked mounds of paperwork to look for his pipe. The curved wooden bastard was hiding right when he needed him the most! A smoke would help the raging or at least get the chaotic cat shit running around in his head under control. He felt like he had been a mess since she had left him as he slept in the flop room all those months ago. Too many Coyote Ugly mornings had passed but to find himself alone when he didn’t want to be was a pisser.

His old life hadn’t been the same either, thank you very much Ms. Bilbo Baggins. Thorin had tried, on several occasions to hook up with some of the random women at the clubhouse but it turned into a disaster each and every time. He hadn’t wanted them, any of the whores that kept trying to jump into his lap with amazing regularity. Thorin Durinson was forty eight years old and his life was in the shitter.

Dwalin knew something was up, kept trying to talk to him particularly over Christmas but he just felt lost by it all. He dreamed of a light brown curls and warm brown eyes attached to soft curves that seemed to cradle him in delightful ways. Sex was a sport for him, like hockey or basketball was for others. One partner should have been just as good as another but not after a few nights with her. It was like Pippen and Jordan of the Chicago Bulls, everyone knew Jordan sucked when he tried to play minor league baseball! Thorin had clicked with a witty little southerner who was a definite flight risk and a possessed a wiggle in her walk. It made him say and do things he had not thought of in a very long time.

Putting the pipe steam in his mouth, he lit the tobacco to draw deeply in his lungs. Flicking the overhead exhaust fan to pull the smoke, he settle back into his chair to complete the puzzle that had been brought to his house. It was good to be the president, he could smoke in any corner of the building and no one would say shit. Gandalf, the nosy miser, had met him in the hallway as the redheaded tornado stormed into a breakroom off the main hall. No matter how many questions you asked the old man, he had written the book on being vague. It was always, answer this queston, don’t think about the Orcs on your doorstep shit.

No, at the moment there was the situation with the rounded-in-all-the-right places female that had been pulled out of an Orc transport.

A knock on the door ripped him out of his musings. Knowing only one person who could and did walk past his assistant without a hello, Thorin shouted for Dwalin to enter. The tattooed brother from another mother grumbled his way into the room, taking a deep chair on the other side of the desk. The thick soled work boots took their usual spot on the corner of the desk like it was his personal foot stool.

“What’s doing?” Thorin asked he got a load of the Dwalin’s expression. To say he was disgruntled was an understatement.

“Tauriel is in a fit.” Dwalin told him in quiet tones as he watched his friend across the desk.

Christ, Thorin thought with a grimace, Bee had dropped those bombshells about Merethen and all he could think of was did Bee’s skin still taste like vanilla sugar the way it did last fall. _Merethen_. The guilty feelings crashed into his thinking, making him flinch in response. The one woman who everyone accepted as being the love of his long life, the reason he never married and hated Thranduil Sindarin had been killed because of her involvement with him. Tauriel’s mother. He would deal with the girl later, when he could talk to Tauriel without retching or worse bawling a three year old. She had not liked him before, he was lucky if she didn’t try to emasculate him. Family tension be damned.

“She has every right. But then she didn’t cause her mother’s death.” Thorin looked at his friend as the guilt began to make a meal of him.

The big man grunted or maybe sneezed, Dwalin could be hard to read somedays. While the President’s office was large as befits the title, it was basically lacking in very ornament that say ‘This is the resting place of power for Erebor.’ No expensive artwork on the walls with gem encrusted frames. Thorin wiped all that crap out once he took charge. The desk, however, was the exception. The large monstrosity of Chippendale design looked like it had been snatched out of Mad King George’s house along with the eight foot wide glass cabinets, made out of glossy hardwoods. Those were the only articles of the family that stayed mostly due the expense of trying to move them out.

“Merethen was killed by a madman, not you. It isn’t like you were driving drunk and hit a tree with her in the car.” Thorin felt his lips curl as Dwalin’s callus description as the security chief settled deeper into the chair.

“If I had left her alone, if she and I had not been close..” Thorin snarled at his friend, his pipe stem clinched in his teeth.

“If, what, maybe, perhaps. It won’t change that she was killed by another’s hand but was avenged by a man who loved her.” Dwalin said the words softly but Thorin felt the impact nevertheless. Had he known the circumstances around Merethen’s death, Thorin would have shouldered his axe and been right beside Thranduil.

“He loved her alright. Made her life a hell here.” Thorin rasped as the smoke burned his throat, pushing back into his own chair. Those memories of Merethen was the hardest to bear.

“Love is an odd thing, makes beggars of kings and fools of wise men.” Dwalin was smiling now at his own joke. “Thranduil is not on my favorites list but I see the ‘why’ now in a lot things that he as done.”

“You don’t hammer a woman you love, if you really love them.” Thorin ran a hand through his hair as he remember Merethen crying over the endless phone calls and threats.

“You do if they are fucking another man that you already don’t like.” Dwalin had a point but the discussion would never end, just circle round and round on a loop.

“There is only one thing stronger than love, Dwalin.” Thorin opened his bottom desk drawer to pull out a bottle of tequila and two cups from the bottom to put on the desktop. He refused to admire anything about the Sindarin cocksucker.

Dwalin eyed the bottle with a smile. “Hate?”

“You got it!” Thorin poured a liberal amount in each before handing one to his friend. “Here’s to us and those like us!”

“Damn few left!” With a salute, they downed the double shots following up with a light cough at the burn.

Dwalin crushed the cup in a tattooed fist as he squirmed to get back his comfort level in the chair. He let his head drop backward to gaze at the ceiling tiles. Thorin thought about taking another shot but the last thing he needed was to be dull when a sharper brain was required. Dwalin had yet to mention Bee, so Thorin decided to wade into that end of the pool. The discussion about Merethen could wait, as hard as it was for him at this moment. They had more pressing concerns.

“So what is the status on Mount Gundabad?” Thorin would need specifics now that the Orc’s home base had been attacked.

“She didn’t raze it to the ground, but the preliminaries say Smaug is going to be very busy for the next year rebuilding. Tauriel picked the best time to get this done. Dark of the moon in winter?” Dwalin had a smile on his lips as stared at the ceiling.

“Careful, someone might think you admire that scarlet bundle of snark.” Thorin pulled out his laptop, letting it warm up.

“I do. She’s the best person for the job. Thranduil will shit bricks too when he finds out his little girl is back in town on a homicidal rage.” Dwalin laughed. “and she didn’t bother to invite him.”

Thorin huffed at his friend but a niggle of concern bloomed suddenly. “Nothing can happen to her. Dwalin? Nothing.”

Maybe the tin man was finding his heart after so many years of trying. In the mired soup way down at the bottom of his soul, Thorin remembered the little girl with thick crimson braids that chased butterflies up the mountain. He knew with pinpoint accuracy that if Tauriel was killed in a vengeful blaze of glory, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Well, Kili probably wouldn’t let him live at all.

The big man held his gaze for a minute but nodded in agreement. “Nothing will touch her, I swear it. Now let’s settle this business with the little Orc downstairs.”

This was going to get complicated, Thorin thought with a stab of fear as he looked at Dwalin. ”What makes you say she is an Orc?”

“Are you shitting me? Dressed head to toe in muted black and gray? With three other Orcs?” Dwalin shook his head in disbelief at what he considered Thorin’s gullibility. “Granted, she’s your type but don’t let a set of tits blind you until you fuck them!”

He doesn’t remember her. Thorin felt like a weight dropped off his shoulders to land on the floor as Dwalin looked at him incredulously. Dwalin didn’t remember them sharing her at Devil’s Night.

“So you want me to fuck her tits?” Thorin asked to try and lighten his buddy up a little, laughing in his face.

“Well…” Dwalin shrugged off the joke. “What is going to happen now? Gandalf knows her so, I don’t think he will be in favor of locking her in a cell. But seriously, that is where she needs to be.”

“She will stay here. Take her to Durin’s House.” Thorin said the words before the thought registered in his filled up noggin. But Mahal, he couldn’t let her go, not now.

Dwalin was shaking his head with a look of horror. “No! No! Bad idea! Fuck her tits somewhere else! Not here!”

“Here is the safest place. Smaug will want her back, so that means he will have to come to us for a change instead of walking unseen.” Thorin was prepared to fight for this, he wanted Bilbo in house surrounded by his things. The idea of her in his bed on his burgundy silk sheets made him smile.

For a moment, Thorin thought of Kili dragging Tauriel back to the mountain with him last year. Had Kili felt the same drive to see her in his bed? The boy was a screw up from the word go, Frerin had let him get by with more than he should. His beloved brother had even pushed Thorin to back off from time to time, to give the little slacker more slack. Thorin had left a lot of it alone at that point, just not seeing more than a willful child with too many people spoiling him. It was that same stubborn traits that provoked Kili to dig in with Dis and Fili’s support, refusing to do what he was told for the first time in his life.

Dwalin was silent, unsure. “I don’t know. It’s a hell of a gamble.”

“That will pay of richly when we kill him. The Red Dragon’s days are numbered, he just doesn’t know it. Yet.” Thorin let a truly evil smile split his face as he watched concern echo across his friend’s mug.

“Thorin, make sure you have your head on straight. I won’t disagree that what happened to Thrain and Frerin wasn’t balls out brutal but..” Dwalin wasn’t tactful, he said what he thought so Thorin helped him along. Neither voiced the idea that his family might have been alive while their fresh was burned away.

“Then we be brutal in turn.” Thorin answered as he blew out a stream of smoke, decision made. “Let Tauriel off the chain. We will hit the spots she misses.”

*****************

As the morning crested on the Mountain, Bilbo was led to a large house on the rise behind what she had heard called The Courtyard. A lovely squared off area with rustic cabins, very clean and neat. The people who lived in those houses were the upper echelon of Erebor and Durin’s Folk as well as family or both. Thorin’s sister and nephews lived there instead of in the Big House as she mentally called it. A small subdivision lay at the base of Mountain Road for select employees as well as those other members who had larger families than what could fit in the two bedrooms of the Courtyard Cabins. There were very rigid rules involved for living in both places that much she knew from the conversations she had with people in town. When the security of these areas were an issue, Bee could see the need for the inflexibility.

It would just make escape that much harder.

The wild card was in the lead, stomping up the rise past the Thror building. She had a slight limp on her left leg, probably a snare in the woods. Somewhere in the midst of her rampage, Tauriel had changed clothes out of the fitted night gear she had been wearing when Bilbo had been taken. Bilbo filed away the gear to research later, particularly the shoes.

“You were the one who broke into Mirkwood last fall.” Tauriel asked but didn’t look back. Her voice was still tight since the big reveal earlier.

“Yep.”

The silence stretched further as Gandalf spoke with Dwalin and the rotund one behind her. Gandalf had not been happy about her staying, looking closely at Dwalin who returned to spring her from the ratbox. His arguments had been swept aside with a few softly spoken comments from the security chief. Only a few raised eyebrows and a nod to one of the men with him, Gandalf followed them up the path the large house that was now to be her jail.

The tattooed roadblock didn’t look at her differently when she arrived and there had been no sign of recognition. Bee wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that he had forgotten her so completely. Her long lost vanity would have sulked for days over it, thinking that he could at least put something together. But as drunk as Dwalin had been, Bilbo was still amazed he had been as active as he was that night.

“Did you tell Smaug how to get past the cameras?” Tauriel asked, shutting up the men behind them as they awaited for her answer.

“Yes, it was the point of the incursion. I was to scout the weak areas.” Bilbo had a little too much fun that night. “But those points have been eliminated now thanks to you and your replacement.”

Very little was known about the new head of Mirkwood’s security. Thranduil had not promoted within as Azog had thought he would, nor had he brought Legolas back from San Francisco. Estel Strider was a falsie, no background no life. He could have sprung out of the mountain rock fully formed for all the intel provided could say. Smaug and Azog both had been gnashing at the bit to get a rise out of Mirkwood to test the guy out, hoping that he was a soft touch in battle.

“It’s nice to know where you are weak before your enemy does.” Tauriel’s voice was gritty with anger as was her body language. That girl was going to be a problem if she didn’t get her emotions under control.

The house was a blazing with lights as they rounded the last bend. Bilbo loved it from the first time she had seen it. Bilbo had enjoyed her quiet life in Virginia, missed it each morning she woke up in a cot. But the raw beauty here was hard to deny, stark and compelling . Tall wide windows with views for miles. Seated on the mountainside, it quite literally had views for miles. All that glass raised questions in her mind about defensibility. You could throw a brick into one of the large panes for a quick in and out. The cut logs were large, larger around than she was with lots of mortar. She couldn’t cut her way out of a wall but there had to be other avenues of escape.

“There are always weak points. Doesn’t matter how hard you try to cover them up. All you can do is use them to your advantage.” The words were out before she really thought about them. Tauriel gave her a speculative look.

She didn’t want to get too cosy with the wild card, she wasn’t here to make friends. This little detour to the Lonely Mountain was going to cost her with Smaug in the long run. He already didn’t trust her and the leverage that she had earned would melt like snow on a warm day if he thought she had betrayed him. Bee had no illusions that she was only as necessary as the Red Dragon allowed her to be. Once that was used up, her and Frodo were dead unless she could escape.

Everything in Hobbiton was layered with rock and stone from the Appalachians to the west. Fields overstocked with mica and limestone had to be cleared in the beginning for farming. Store fronts, homes and outbuildings were made of stone or had a stone façade to match the neighbors. The Old Took said that the first settlers in the area made comments that it looked like Ireland or Wales with all the low rock walls and crofts. It made her ache to think her and Frodo would never be able to go home again. Smaug would just scoop them up once more.

“Thorin wants you to stay here.” Tauriel said as they walked inside the foyer. “Bombur will stay until he returns.”

The tall redhead watched her with close scrutiny. Now feeling like a staring contest, Bee smiled the rotund man with long ginger hair while Gandalf and Dwalin waited outside.

“I would say don’t try to escape. But honestly, I think another trip to Mount Gundabad would be fun.” A scary smile crossed her lips, frightening Bilbo a little.

“You got lucky tonight, it was unexpected.” Bee wanted to warn her though she was sure the wild card wouldn’t listen. “They will be waiting for you now.”

The smile stayed in place as Tauriel walked outside without another word. Bee couldn’t help but feel as if things were going to get worse, infinitely worse before they got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Thorin to feel a little remorse.. ok more than a little for what had happened in Part 2 with Kili.. But it won't last, so he isn't anywhere near reformed..... Bilbo, poor thing, is just going to have to sit up in that big house with Thorin and try not to jump him like a trampoline.. :o)


	10. thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12 am February 17

Bilbo could feel the beginnings of cabin fever mixed with stir crazy as she mindlessly flipped from one TV channel to another. The big flat panel had every station known to man and some that shouldn’t be. Thorin had sprung for the works instead of just the sports package like a typical guy would do, but too many choices could be just as bad as having none. Sinking further into the down comforter on the bed, she mentally groused at the turn of events. Being this close to him had not been part of her original plan, so why was she still here? Since when did she self torture when Smaug’s threats were part of her daily menu?

Dori had shown her to an empty guest room with an ensuite bathroom. Very pretty, decorated in floral purples. The embarrassing questions began as to her needs before Bilbo even tried to bounce on the mattress. Feminine products? Did she use baby wipes for bowel movement cleanup? Was there an Activa regiment that would need to be planned? Bilbo knew that the older man was trying to be nice in an awkward situation which was the only reason she held her ascorbic remarks. Metrosexual or at least bi were the prevailing thoughts when she caught Dori at two different times staring at her chest. A sweetheart to be sure but seriously, how was he comfortable discussing bowel movements?

Dori was chatty, taking a lot of the burden of the conversation from the Burglar. He was the lead foreman at the mine during second shift, mostly working on clean up detail. The older man had been working at the mine since he dropped out of cooking school, though he missed it at times. His mother had been sick and needed help with Dori’s younger brothers, forcing him to give up his dream of being a chef. He couldn’t say how adept he had been with his middle brother as a role model since Nori had spent time in Juvenile Detention. Well, Nori _had_ done jolts until Juvie taught him how not to get caught in his criminal dealings.

Bilbo found herself given tidbits on her life in the Shire to a loquacious, albeit very nice member of the Durin’s Folk. If for no other reason than to steer the conversation into waters that would yield up the most information she could use. Yes, that was a the reason. Bee was sure Dori had been told to not discuss Thorin, probably because the Erebor miner would seamlessly change the subject with the same basic tactics that Bilbo herself would use. In the end, she let the Thorin topics go as her lady parts began to tighten at the thought of him.

The contradiction of wanting to know about the stubborn male verses the need to maintain her distance was pushing a migraine to drill painfully behind her eyes and at the temples. When Thorin’s sister Dis showed up later tonight for her shift at watch, Bilbo was done in. The feminine version of Thorin tried to engage her in conversation too, much more probing than Dori. It felt like they had a tag team effort going with this politer Interrogation Part II, but Bee needed some space since none of her primary questions were close to getting answers.

Three hours later, she wasn’t in the ballpark of a plan and worse, there had bed no clue of what was happening outside this house. The Luins twins had been here off and on but as non verbal on hot button issues as the rest. Even the wild card was mum when she came.   Tossing back the comforter, Bilbo walked to the door to take her plate back to the kitchen. The thick ham sandwiches with slices of mozzarella and Havarti cheeses had been so tasty she had gone back for another. Bee hadn’t cared who was doing the cooking, Dori probably based on his convo. It was tasty plus it wasn’t the nightly gruel that was dished out at the Orc Mess.

Night had fallen, along with fresh snowfall that just kept coming outside the wide windows as she passed. She mentally calculated the diameter and need for force to get past the pane. It would take no time for her to jimmy a corner out and slip into the darkness beyond with no one the wiser. Getting a vehicle would be a tad tricky but Bee had no doubt that there would be Orcs waiting at different places of Mountain road for her to make an escape. Smaug would be sure that she would try at some point so long as he held Frodo.

Bee stopped suddenly at the remembrance of her nephew, closing her eyes to the pain of it. He was so young, so unaware. The last few times she had talked to him, Frodo had become more and more withdrawn. Smaug had promised his continued good health as long as she cooperated but the separation was being to take a toll on the little boy and now her. Bilbo wanted to place her faith in Gandalf’s ability to get him out but she knew that if it didn’t happen soon, she would be forced to go back to the Orcs. Smaug would punish her in some way but Frodo would be alive. A hostage once more in the clutches of a dragon and his team of nightmares.

She walked into the kitchen in borrowed clothes that the ladies of Durin’s Folk had generously donated. Not the skanky whores that migrated to the clubhouse but the members’ wives and mothers. The leggings Bee suspected were child sized but they were clean and they didn’t make her feel like a criminal. Most of her wardrobe in Mount Gundabad had consisted of fitted things that allowed her to leave at a moment’s notice to burgle some place of Azog or Smaug’s choosing. The Catwoman costume had been a special order, but still saved at the bottom of a sack under her bed. The football jersey she wore now was of a college team she didn’t recognize but it was still comfortable, which was all Bee cared for at the moment.

Bilbo put her plate in the sink, washing out the glass in habit. The dishwasher was going at the other side of the long wooden counter so it would be some time before her things would be cleaned. Turning around, she had to bite off a gasp as she found Thorin watching her from where he sat on the other side of the island bar.   He was casually drinking a beer with a half eaten sandwich of his own as if the tension in the room had not shot up a thousand percent. His shoulder length black hair and beard looked damp in places, the snow had fallen in it but melted as he ate.

Bee wanted to slap herself for the lapse. Thorin had been in and out over the last two days but she had only seen him at a distance. No contact between them had made her relax, let her guard down. This was the one place her barriers had to be intact or it would cause more problems long term than she already had. With the Orcs, she had known how many were in a room almost immediately with a two percent margin of error. Now, she had become unable to distinguish proximity after a day and a night in Durin’s House? Mam would be spinning in her grave right about now.

Thorin looked her over carefully as a blush followed his gaze up her body. “Gandalf’s Luin friends will be here in a bit.”

He wasn’t one to mince on a conversation or back down from uncomfortable silences. He had no problem staring at her either as she remembered. “I don’t need baby sitters.”

“My house, my rules.” The head of Erebor sat across from her, used to issuing those orders and them being obeyed. But Bilbo didn’t play by those rules.

Thorin sat the empty bottle on the island as he wiped his mouth. The rolled up sleeves of the navy button down shirt tightened a little more at the shoulders as the movement bunched the muscles there. She loved those strong shoulders, loved the feel of them under her fingertips. Bilbo shook herself a little at the memory of licking and biting those shoulders as she rode him. He sat back in the creaking chair, the stitched emblem of Erebor on the pocket drawing her attention away from pleasurable thoughts. The logo of the cut white gem in the steel gray cage was an appropriate choice.

She walked to the counter so that only the long expanse of the island separated them. Better he see what he is getting now than later. “I am getting really tired of jailers.”

“Smaug will come for you when he realizes that you aren’t leaving.” The deep bass rumble rolled over Bee to make her itch in all the right places, or maybe it was the barely restrained sexual look he had on his face.

“No, he won’t. He will expect me to walk out of here with the Arkenstone to meet up with the Orcs he has waiting for me between here and Dale.” Why couldn’t the stubborn ass see the bigger picture? “If I don’t do it soon, he will start hurting Frodo as a reminder! Do you think that hunk of rock means more to me than my family?”

“Gandalf will find him.” The utter surety of the sentiment almost made her smile at him if the stakes weren’t so high. Gandalf was a good man but Smaug had a lifetime of covering his tracks.

“He doesn’t know where to look! I don’t even know and I have been here a year!” The frustration of the situation was madding to her that the stupid males couldn’t see the obvious. The over confidence in their whole attitude was part of the problem.

“You need to have a little faith at times, not jump to the wrong conclusions like you did last year.” The sexy smile was back, tugging at his full lips as it seared her to the core.

Roping in her stampeding libido would take more than a moment, but Bilbo gave it a shot. Before she could convince him of what she knew was true, his cellphone started buzzing across the counter towards her to the tune of “Lady Marmalade” by Labelle. Bee couldn’t hold back a snicker as he picked up the phone to answer ‘Oakenshield’. Whether it was a timely interruption, she couldn’t say. The conversation between them would have kept escalating into paths that for the moment were better left alone. Particularly if he was going to starting hitting her between the legs with smirks that sent her blood to boil. Bilbo didn’t like being a ‘protected guest’ anymore than she had enjoyed being a ‘captive employee’. If she didn’t pay attention, Bee would find herself out of the frying pan into his lap.

He got out of the chair to walk in the direction of the glass doors, listening to the caller as his stress level increased. The jeans he wore fitted well, cupping his backside in marvelous ways. God Bless Levis. Thorin made a drool worthy sight framed as he was against the swirling white beyond the glass. He bowed his head to rub the heel of his hand at one eye as he blew out a breath. Something bad had happened but whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the them yet. Bee almost wanted to regret the desire that coursed through her body but really life was just too short for regrets.

“Alright Dwalin. I will be there in ten, don’t call Fili yet. His woman had a doc appointment today, let him have his time with her.” He released he call, putting the phone in his back pocket. “I have to go to Thror. Dis, Ori and Stone will be here until the Luin twins arrive.”

Taking a seat at the bench by the door, Thorin began to stuff his feet into his insulated boots for the hike back to the office. The warped responsibilities that he had accepted in this life would break him eventually, the cracks were there already in the armor. She could see it in the expression his face when he looked up at her. It wasn’t fair, none of it was. Bilbo had been the least fair from the start, she should never have let him touch her.

Smaug’s war had begun to rip chunks from him that he couldn’t spare, all for a damn mine. It wasn’t a war of attrition, a river or flash flood that eroded the landscape over the course of time. This was a Blitzkrieg, a lightning war, an electrical hammer pounding and pounding the Durin’s folk until nothing was left or if there was, not worth saving. There would be no cavalry to drive off the enemy. No last minute rescue. The board was set in Smaug’s favor, each Orc with a specific role to fill in this war. Whatever he had been in this life before she met him, Thorin was a fighter just like the others and they were fighting for their right to live.

The predetermined roles were pushing them apart to their prearranged paths, his to the Mountain and her back to the Shire, eventually. It wasn’t her war, not her fight. Mam’s advice about choosing the right battles echoed again and again as Thorin stood up grab his gloves off the bar. Bilbo was used to walking away, had good practice at it. Men had come and gone in her life with no regrets from her. Only Frodo mattered, his safety and happiness. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to fall for a mark, it just wasn’t good business. But it had happened for her that night in October. Bee had wanted him, wanted the same night again and so many others.

“Do you think you could have loved me?” Bilbo wasn’t sure why the answer mattered but it did. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking.

Thorin heaved a sigh as if the whole thing made him tired. He refused to look at her as he pulled on his coat to go back to Erebor. “We are long past that now, baby girl.”

***************

Sigrid shuffled into the kitchen, grumpy because her stomach was rolling again. The doctor had said the baby was fine and the morning sickness was normal. But it wasn’t just morning sickness, it was all day plus the night sickness. The pregnancy books said to try the peppermint or ginger tea for the worst of it, so far they helped to keep her from worshipping the porcelain god. Dropping a peppermint tea bag into a mug, she nuked it in the microwave not wanting to wait for the kettle.

There was a noise in the living room, startling her out of her musings. As she turned, Sigrid saw Tauriel curled on the couch in dark blue flannel pajamas staring at her phone. She rubbed her pants leg were Oin had put a few stitches in thanks to a razor snare at Mount Gundabad. Her hair was loose around her face, not up in its customary braid. The tall redhead wore a sad expression as she finally met Sigrid’s gaze.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” She said quietly, looking up from a picture of Kili on the phone’s screen.

“No! Upset stomach.” Sigrid took the mug out before the beep so Fili wouldn’t wake up. “Still on Paris time?”

“No.” Tauriel looked at her phone again. “Hard to sleep without him.”

Sigrid’s heart went out to her friend. The strain of the last three days was catching up with the redhead, gnawing at her like wolves after an injured deer. With Kili still in France for a while yet, she couldn’t imagine how Tauriel had been coping with that worry on top of everything else. They all were in harm’s way and would be until Smaug and Azog were dead. Bolg, Sigrid would love to torture personally.

“Well, I would lend you Fili for a night but he tends to hog the covers.” Sigrid told her with a laugh as she took a seat at the end of the couch from her friend, letting the tea steep and cool. The wafting smell breezed across her nose as she held the mug close to her mouth.

“There would be no sleep, just fighting over the covers all night. I would be right back at square one.” Tauriel snickered along with Sigrid, taking the joke at face value.

Sigrid grabbed the thick wool afghan off the back of the couch to toss it over her lap. Fili hadn’t built up the fire last night so there was a bit of a chill in the cabin. The heating system worked but they had both agreed that they slept better in colder rooms. Tauriel had not mentioned her comfort level, so Sigrid assumed she was ok with it. Staring at her friend and the worry lines on her tired face, the blond felt the need to clear the air.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you. Really. I don’t worry about Fili now that you are here.” Sigrid reached out to take her friend’s hand.

“You guys are my family now.” Holding her hand tightly, Tauriel returning the smile. “More so than I have ever had. I could never forgive myself if something happened that I could prevent.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Midnight conversations were usually heartfelt, more poignant than what is passed about in the light of day. Two women who had much in common besides the love for and from a pair of brothers reaffirmed their friendship. The darkness, however, draws out the deepest fears as well as fragile dreams that keep one from finding their rest. Those same fragile dreams and hopes for the future were what kept both women looking forward to meeting the dawn and a brand new day.

“The clothes you sent were so pretty!” Sigrid gushed. “We still don’t if it is a boy or a girl.”

“Gender neutral is wonderful thing. I am surprised you haven’t stated decorating Kili’s old room into a nursery.” Tauriel put her phone down before hugging a pillow to her.

“I want Fili to go with me but since everything..Damn Bolg. Screwing up my life. I’m sorry, I need to stop complaining.” Sigrid huffed with annoyance. “Dis wants to give me the ‘family cradle’. I told her to give it to you for your kids.”

Sigrid giggled but it fell flat when Tauriel didn’t join her. “What’s wrong?” She has her friend who wouldn’t meet her look.

“I had an IUD inserted back in December. Kili and I discussed it before so, it wasn’t arbitrary.” A tear slide down her face. “I thought we had time. He is just starting his job, we are both in our mid-twenties. No kids or talk about them until after we marry.”

“You have time. This isn’t over! You will have a house full to run along side their blond cousins.” Sigrid pretended to think for a minute. “I want four kids. Four is a good number but ask me again after this one pops out!”

The girls laughed at each other, Tauriel laughingly told Sigrid that she won’t want more after this child. All the Durinsons had wide shoulders, the kid would split her open like a fileted fish. Sigrid made a bowl of popcorn as they groused about what traits the child could have from which parent. Tauriel kept saying that the child would need height, a trait severely lacking in the Durinson gene pool. Unless it was a girl, which would be fine.

They sobered after a while, discussing other things. Tauriel didn’t like the snotty parties they had to attend as Van Cleef wined and dined Kili as their rising star. The redhead talked of the people she had met at Grey Company, an eclectic international group. Most of all she missed the steadiness of living here, more than she had realized. When the topics dwindled back to the original, they both vented on the current climate and state of the coming war.

“I don’t understand why Smaug doesn’t just leave. The cost of losing men and everything else. It makes no sense.” Sigrid had asked questions but the answers from others didn’t seem right. Tauriel would tell her the truth.

“He wants the Arkenstone or so Bilbo says. Smaug has been in a lot of nasty places in the world, so has his buddy Azog. He is getting old now, wanting a nice place to settle down for some peace in his later years.” Tauriel folded her legs under her to face Sigrid fully. “He has committed his resources, so it is all or nothing.”

“Do you trust this Bilbo woman? She is a prisoner here, anything she says might be lies.” Sigrid had seen the burglar with her light brown curls on the porch yesterday at a Durin’s House. Fili hadn’t been comfortable yet with _that woman_ as he called her meeting his pregnant fiancé.

“The best lies have a grain of truth to them.” Tauriel advised solemnly. “Gandalf knows her and her people. He said that she wouldn’t be involved at all if Smaug didn’t have her nephew.”

“So get the nephew. Take her off the playing field, because you know she will escape and go back.” Sigrid said. “Do you know where the nephew is?”

“No. He would be close but not too close. Bilbo is crafty and very good at what she does. She painted a penis on Thranduil’s bay window and didn’t get caught! If the boy was at Dol Guldur, she would have gotten him out by now.” Tauriel’s lip twitched as she pulled her laptop out of the bag beside her. “She said that Frerin had set up camp not far away from a house Smaug owns in the mountains. It was how Frerin was captured.”

“Where was Frerin taken?” Sigrid asked, taking a sip of tea. “His stuff wasn’t recovered as far as I know. But tent camping still leaves traces. Fire rings, increased animal life.”

“Good point!” Tauriel pulled up Google Earth for the Misty Mountains. “Without a general idea of where Frerin was before he was taken, it would be difficult. Moria isn’t a small place. Smaug would want something permanent, not mobile. A place to have roots.”

Sigrid grabbed a legal pad and began to jot down GPS coordinates of the possible places near Moria that Smaug could have a house or that Frerin would have camped. Tauriel would need to talk to Thorin about the last known specifics of where his brother had been for Frerin would have given them an exact location. The more they looked at the maps the more it stuck the blond on why this had not been done already. Tauriel had the right idea in taking the fight to Smaug, so far everything had been on the defensive. But why had Thorin or even Thranduil not tried to do more than they had?

Fili joined them when he woke up alone. He had become used to Sigrid’s nocturnal wanderings as well as her need for sex in the middle of the night. No man would ever tell his woman no to being awakened with a blowjob. Granted it didn’t happen as often as he would like but the frequency was enough that kept them both content.

He took her mug to refresh her mug once it ran low, nuking another bag of peppermint tea. He brought Tauriel a cup of honeyed chai to which she gave a grateful smile. Fili was such a good man, Sigrid was happy every day they were together. She would never tell him that she had crushed on the Durinson heir since she was thirteen. He wouldn’t understand if he knew, would probably find it a bit creepy. It had been a quiet thing, something she kept to herself and never spoke of to anyone until after Fili had asked her to marry him. When the rumors had started circulating about him years ago and all the women, Sigrid had cried many nights into a silently sympathetic pillow.

Fili had been in the process of trying to drag her back to bed when Tauriel’s phone started buzzing across the table with incoming call. She picked it up with an odd look before she answered. “Dwalin?” Tauriel looked first at Fili then to Sigrid as her eyes flattened and emotion died in their depths.

“Dwalin has been calling you.” She told Fili, swiping the call ended. “Get dressed, another body was dumped at the gates.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said this one was darker and it is.. The next chapter is going to be graphic so you have a week to decide if you want to read it. Torture and a horrible death...
> 
> I appreciate everyone who reads, leaves comments, and kudos... It is why I sit down, strap in and let the imagination off its leash! :o)


	11. The Retaliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 am February 17
> 
> *****WARNING*****  
> The following contains graphic descriptions of torture and murder.. or as graphic as I can be...
> 
> You have been warned....

 

 

The room was quiet, mostly from shock and horror instead of respect. The overhead fans were off at the moment as their primary responsibility was to push the heat down to the people below. The room was hot enough with the added misery of decomposition clogging up the available space. He had not been sure of where to look, at the containers or at the people in the room. But one thing was sure, Fili desperately wanted to get his axes and cut down the son of a cocksucker who did this to his friend. Even now, a buzzing feeling began to tickle and twist down his neck with the need to do something. Anything!

Mahal in his forge, Radagast shouldn’t have died this way.

Fili thought things couldn’t get any worse when he saw the heads of his family on this table but fate has a way of bitchslapping the surprise right out of you. This was one of those days you think about but wish to god you never see. Staring at the contents of the large container, he was certainly glad they had fish earlier in the night or he wouldn’t have been able to hold down much else. Looking around the room, each and everyone there had the same green complexion as he had. Each was thinking that is was a horrible way to go, particularly someone who had never really harmed anyone. They were fighters, each of them in their own way where Radagast had been a gentle soul.

Clear vacu sealed plastic bags of surgically cut flesh lay neatly stacked with the trunk of the body at the bottom. The fingers and the toes had been removed first and the stubs burned. The wiggly members had been taken for a different purpose, much more gruesome than he would ever have thought. The hands had been sawed off, cut at wrists then they also had been burned to stop the blood loss. The serrated edges might could mean they used different means but, Fili was betting on the hacksaw. Looking at the feet in their individual baggies, an Orc had used a hatchet or an axe due to sharp yet uneven cuts in the flesh.

The body itself had been folded precisely in the fetal position to allow for more space in the large hard plastic tub. It was a ghastly parody of birth as if to say, here is man and he has died like he was born. Naked he has come and naked he went. The parts they had hacked off were arranged in simplistic detail, the extra plastic of the bags had been tucked neatly underneath in the hollow created by the knee and in the embrace of the handless arms.

In the bags themselves, Fili recognized the tongue. It had a black mark at the tip where something had held it while it was cut out of his mouth. Beside the tongue, lay the penis and the balls together in front of the blackened flesh of his genital area. They had emasculated him, then burned the area there too to keep him from bleeding out. Those cuts were precise, maybe a cleaver or a long sharp knife.

Tauriel had hit Mount Gundabad two days ago. For the Orcs to have done this to a friend of theirs and made efforts to keep him a live during the process, they would have had to have taken him almost immediately afterwards. It had been methodical, well planned. Chop something off, burn it. Wait for him to get past the shock. Chop off another part, burn the ends and repeat. There were needle marks in the arms and upper thighs while Radagast liked his herbs he wouldn’t have used junk. The Orcs might have given him something to keep their prisoner alive longer, but whatever was in those needles wouldn’t have been for the pain.

The Orcs loved a good scream, Radagast would have been alive right up until they cut off his head. The degree of horror the man had suffered was beyond Fili’s realm to mentally process. Smaug was known to be very hands on, he might have done the deed himself but most likely it was Azog. The Serbian bastard had a love for all things bloody. There were ligature marks on the legs and arms above the scorched flesh where they had tied him down before they began. Fili found he didn’t care much who actually did the cutting as he stared at a bag that held the yellowed hazel eyes of his friend. They all had to go at this point.

He stepped to his right at the shocking display of Radagast’s head. The box was lined like a bird nest with twigs, bits of fluff and cotton but larger than what might be in your yard. His head had been placed in the center with the jaw wired open. His beard and hair was brushed and braided with colorful beads around the thick wires in his mouth. In the absence of the tongue, his toes and fingers had been stuffed into his mouth like an obscene fruit salad. They had blackened and already smelled of decay, so his first thought was probably right that they started with the fingers and toes. Where the eyes had been, now held his thumbs, cricked and bent like grubs burrowing out of a rotten apple.

“What beasts could do such a thing?” Oin asked the question while each knew the answer. Rougher animals than had ever roamed the Earth on four legs and Durin’s Folk would have to kill them.

Thorin was pacing by his golden eyesore, tugging at his long beard. He is thinking, Fili hoped as he watched his uncle. Dwalin stood to one side with Dain, Oin and Bofur, texting the Courtyard for updates. The big man wore a grim expression as he watched the room. He had to be going crazy right now since three bodies had been dropped at Erebor’s gates in little over a week. No one wanted to say that the security here was a joke but you had to wonder what was going to happen when Smaug and Azog actually tried to get inside, and they would eventually.

Tauriel had been on her phone from the moment they had arrived. Grey Company of Paris where she worked had taken to watching Kili quietly at her behest as an added layer of security to what Van Cleef already employed. When the all clear had come back that he was home safe, her shoulders had slumped in relief and she allowed herself a brief smile. Fili had not realized he was holding his breath until he saw that grin. Kili was safe, for the moment.

Sigrid had been bundled up in her customary blankets along with Dis to stay at Gloin’s cabin for the night. Neither woman had said a word as they shuffled past Mrs. Gloin with a smile and hug to sleep in their spare bedroom. Gloin laid his scimitar on his knees as he took a seat in his recliner in the living room. The big carved sword was as wicked sharp as its red headed welder. They were safe there tonight until Fili or Tauriel could come for them in the morning.

Stone, Ori and Nori were walking the courtyard at regular intervals with flashlights and a ready sword. The perimeter lights glowed in each sector of the compound as well at the Durin’s Folk clubhouse. Bifur and Dori went to Kingdom subdivision to take watch from Bombur’s house at the base of Mountain Road along with the other employees that were higher on Erebor’s pecking order lived. The alarms were switched on but it was like shutting the barn door after the horse had run away, the worst had already happened. Nobody would be sleeping tonight.

Gandalf was there but strangely silent as he stared at the boxes. This was his friend, one of his oldest if Fili remembered right. Radagast and Gandalf had met when their clandestine group was formed called the Istari Group. The passage of years had not dimmed their friendship, they had not grown apart as so many do. When Gandalf became disillusioned, it was to his old friend that he gravitated, needing the familiarly of long association. Now in what should have been their golden years, his friend was cut apart for no reason other than hate.

“Do the Twins know?” Fili wanted Gandalf’s attention, wanted to know what the Sheriff was thinking.

“Yes, they are at Durin’s House now.” The old man visibly swallowed. “They will say goodbyes later. They didn’t want to see him like this.”

The Luin Twins had become specters in the county, moving here and there unseen. Dwalin had said they were gathering information but to what end was anyone’s guess. Fili wasn’t seeing anything they had produced so far nor had anyone that he had asked. He found though he wouldn’t begrudge them not coming here, wanting to preserve a memory of an old friend, not a dissected carcass in a box. What had made Radagast their friend had died before the remains had been brought to Erebor’s gate.

“Did anyone see who left these?” Bofur asked with genuine curiosity.

“A red SUV stopped outside the gates and pushed them out. When the patrol saw them, they radioed me and I called Thorin.” Dwalin told him quietly as he turned to ask Thorin a question. He took a plastic bag with a piece of paper from under a sheaf of paper once Thorin gave the nod. “This was found with the body.”

Gandalf didn’t move which meant he knew what the note said already. Tauriel walked behind Fili as the three of them crowded around the note.

 _You have my burglar. I want her back. If I don’t get her, Azog will come for_ your _women_.

“Bilbo?” Tauriel looked to Dwalin. “He did this to get Bilbo back?”

Tauriel stared the remains while Fili watched her, trying to figure out what would come firing out of that mind. No one would blame her for what had happened, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t blame herself. Shock, surprise, anger, deeper anger, rage. All flitted across her face before it shut down into cold calculation. Fear condensed slowly at that look on her face, he felt his throat close as she tightened her grip on the sword at her side.

“Has anyone called Beorn? He will want to know.” Oin asked, looking around the room.

Gandalf replied as he shook himself. “He should be here momentarily. Beorn will take ….Radagast to Carrock.”

Silence descended once more as Tauriel started to pace as well but at the opposite end of the room from Thorin. She almost vibrated with energy to move or strike anything that was within reach. Fili wished he had convinced her to stay at the cabin with Sigrid. Her energy level was swinging from wild to volatile and back again. He kept feeling like he should call Kili to have a chat with his brother about his fiancé but honestly, Fili was very fond of where his balls were at the moment.

They could hear the shouting and the loud stomping before the doors were kicked open to slam against the walls. The big man strode inside the room with the swagger of a Viking on the battlefield. Dressed in black tactical gear with his bald head gleaming, it was a most imposing sight a person didn’t want to have. His thick beard had been cut since last Fili had seen him, now it curled out slightly at his jawline. Beorn, the mad Russian bear, had come to Erebor but he had not come alone. Grimbeorn, dressed like an extra from Black Hawk Down, stood at his father’s back. The heavy mace he carried in hand looked like it could split skulls very easily. Behind them, five men stood with stony expressions as they watched Medved stride into the room.

Beorn walked to the table to see the cases open before him. His jawed tightened as he looked over the remains to draw the same conclusions. “He was…my.. friend.”

The words were tight with a flood of tears that the Russian Bear would never let loose in this room. Beorn looked to Gandalf before him as he got himself under control. “What happens now?”

“We get Frodo, push Smaug into the open. Then we kill him.” Tauriel said at once, drawing every eye in the room. Especially a big Russian Bear’s.

The big man step back from the table, looking at Tauriel with a puzzled expression. Fili half expected him to cock his head like a dog to get a better sniff. The long chain tattoos moved and flexed along Beorn’s arms as he let go of the fists he had clinched in anger. The uneven lines of his face restructured themselves from anger to something excited.

“I know you.” Beorn walked to her slowly, an amble so like his animal moniker. “I know you, red hairs.”

The others in the room seized quietly as if not to spook the wild one in the room which unfortunately had his gaze locked on Tauriel. It was Thorin who decided to poke at the bear. “You remember Merry, don’t you Medved? This is Tauriel, her daughter, who is engaged to my nephew.”

Fili gaped at Thorin and Dwalin with an incredulous stare. Thorin had basically reached out and verbally smacked the bear with his nephew’s claim on her person. While neither man looked concerned, Gandalf frowned as he stared at the Russian as he walked slowly to the other end of the room. There had been history between Merethen Silvan and many men in this room but to what degree was anyone’s guess. The problem was, no one wanted to talk about the old days to shed any light on it.

Tauriel’s face wore a set expression, neither happy nor sad, merely watchful. She didn’t remember the Russian, if she had ever known him. Beorn stood about two feet from her, his eyes tracing each feature of her face. Had the big man been looking at Sigrid in such a manner, Fili would have shoved a knife in his gut by now.  

“I look for your mother in you.” His words were a caress that made Fili very very uncomfortable. “I miss her.”

“She isn’t there.” Tauriel put her hands behind her, slightly gripping a knife in its sheath but never taking her eyes off the Russian in front of her. There was no trust in her stance, just the tight expectation of something happening.

“You are Thranduil’s chosen, yes?” He looked sad in that moment as if he had hoped for more than what she was, more than what she could have been.

“I am Tauriel, Kili Dwarrow’s Fiancé.” Just like that, every Durinson in the room at the snap of a finger straightened with pride at her declaration of allegiance. She was theirs as much as they were hers and all of them Durin’s Folk.

Beorn snorted in Russian to his son behind him who fought like hell to keep from grinning. “What is Frodo?”

“A hostage of Smaug’s, his leverage over Bilbo Baggins. Thranduil’s burglar? We get the boy, then we can really tear into his operations. Bilbo will never tell us anything as long as Smaug holds Frodo.” Tauriel told him quickly as Thorin started to object.

“I’m going too.” Fili yelled at her as she grabbed her coat. “We need to figure out still where Smaug’s mountain base is.”

“No!” Tauriel replied. “We have had this conversation. No, end of story.”

The set of her jaw might be firm but Fili was used to stubborn people. He had grown up in Durin’s house, knew the ins and outs of how to get what he wanted. Sometimes a full frontal attack was necessary.

Fili growled at her before he replied. “You aren’t listening. I am going with or without you. I will not hide, while others fight our battles and die for us! It is not in my blood!”

“You’re Kili’s blood too.” She told him in a quiet voice, shattering a lot of his resolve. “You go with me, you remember this is my op. You do what I tell you.”

“Agreed.” Fili told her as the Russian gave a manic laugh.

**************

“We need to talk.” Dain hurried behind Thorin, a nuisance in steel shanked boots.

“You sound like a nagging wife, Dain. Why don’t you put on a dress and spread your legs if you intend to bug my ass.” Thorin had almost gotten to the safety of his office only to be caught in the stairwell by the annoying little shit cousin that was worse than a bloodsucking tick.

With Fili, Tauriel, and the Mad Beorn going after Frodo, Thorin felt torn about telling Bilbo. If they succeeded, she would have him back and be free to go. If not, the danger level would explode to epic heights here at home. Thorin was leaning on not saying anything, at least until he knew the particulars.

_Do you think you could have loved me?_

Thorin powerwalked away from his cousin with the same determination he tried to outrun those words and his own feelings. The answer was simple but the situation was not. Yes, he probably would have loved her then but he knew he loved her now. He was forty eight years old, a total shit of a human being with a selfish streak longer than his Johnson but he loved her. It just took seeing her in his college hockey jersey tonight to tell him the truth of why his life had stopped making sense.

Dain the Ironshit was grousing still while Thorin tried to ignore him. It was well after business hours or before them depending on your point of view. The building had closed for a few hours, office staff not arriving for hours yet. It was a catch 22, unfortunately. No one was here for Thorin to pass the stumpy bastard off to, but then no one would see Thorin kick his ass if it came to it.

“So that’s why you fuck all those women, thinking of me each time?” Dain’s sarcasm would get him killed one day, hopefully someone will be filming it. It was a snuff film that Thorin would put into rotation at the club house.

“Nope, I’m all about the bald wet pussy. Not the dried up wrinkled ass. If you want cock, I can point you in another direction who would know how to hook you up.” Thorin was sure if Dain knew about Stone’s sexuality. At any rate, that was family biz to discuss, not Thorin’s. “Why are you here?”

“We need to move the Mithril project to Iron Hills.” Dain leaned forward on Thorin’s desk as the Oakenshield took a seat. It still wasn’t far enough away from Dain or his zeal.

“No. We start moving anything, and people will know. I don’t want any talk, not a peep.” Thorin knew there were spies here before anything could be mentioned by Dwalin. Not because he had seen anything out of the ordinary but because it was something he would do given the chance.

The Mithril project was his master’s thesis in college. Years ahead of its time, a biopolymer infused metal what could stop bullets faster than Kevlar but was lighter and stronger than Titanium. His professor had convinced him to sell the idea to a firm with government contracts for military applications. Unfortunately, the nineties saw a Democrat in the White House and wars were pushed to the side. The company who bought it had declared bankruptcy, giving Thorin the opportunity to buy back his work and submit the patent in the Erebor’s name. But including his cousin Dain had been a huge mistake, one of many.

Dain was pacing now on Thorin’s new carpet, he had to go. “With the bodies getting laid at your gates, I really think..”    

“Stop thinking and get out. I own this product and you have a five percent share only. You stand to make millions even with that paltry sum. Don’t lose your balls now, Dain. You want someone to lick them for you later!” Dain’s face got redder than normal but he stomped out of the room, giving Thorin some relief. Just not enough.

_*********_

_Excerpt from Bilbo Baggins’ Journal_

_When I first met Sigrid, I thought she was a creampuff of a girl. The flouncy Carrie Bradshaw type that was all smiles and dimples with cupcakes on the side that she would never eat. I was wrong, I was so wrong. But I was also right that she was a creampuff._

_Sigrid Bowman was sweet and with a fluffy attitude, Tauriel’s mirror opposite. But I found over the time in their company, they were like a coin together. Two sides but still the same. Sigrid held Tauriel’s conscience while the wild card gave her hope. Both had too much courage and fighting spirit, neither understood what it meant to give up. Together, they changed the course of my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sure that Radagast was a fave of few.. I had no personal stake with him but sense he was one of those left out alone in Carrock, he was always a target.. Particularly when get went postal on the Orcs over his bunnies.. 
> 
> Radagast is the firt, so far there will be at least 6 more deaths. I am not doing this for kicks, and it isn't random.. This war is going to affect them all and not all of them will survive.  
> I want to thank you all for reading, it means so much!


	12. The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 am February 17

Balin, Tauriel and Fili crowded into a smaller conference room on the second floor. She had run back to the cabin to fetch the notepad with the coordinates that they had found earlier during their brain storming. The valleys around Moria were wide with many possible areas that Smaug might have built the mansion of death as Tauriel was starting to call it. Fili groused when she returned since she had changed clothes into tact gear and brought her weapons too. If she thought she was leaving him when he went to do the same, Tauriel Silvan was in for a nasty surprise.

Beorn and his guys had left to take Radagast back to Carrock. Fili made every effort to push the pain of it all, Radagast would not have suffered for nothing. The mad Russian called once they arrived, to advise no activity on the Woodland Highway. Their scouts in the forest around Mount Gundabad reported heavy activity in what was left of the compound and immediately outside the fence. They were expecting another hit, the Orcs were ready this time. All of them agreed that nothing could be worked tonight since it was pushing 4 am. By the time they reached the mountains, it would be too close to sunrise with no sleep to utilize the time effectively. If they were diligent now and found craps of information to lead them to Smaug, they could go tonight and make the bastard pay.

Balin dropped a file on the table while Fili set up two laptops. The lawyer had made a point to print off the emails that Thorin could retrieve once it was assumed that Frerin could be missing. Whatever had happened to him, it had been not been quick. The last email had been sent around Halloween of last year. Looking over the body of the message, Fili was certain it was his uncle not a clever ruse on the Orcs part. Chem tests on samples that he had found in what he termed the First Deep. Also personal notations that he and Thorin would need to talk about Kili when he got back.

“Why has no search been started before now?” Tauriel looked at Fili and Balin. “I mean the guy was missing with no word for months. You going to tell me that no one worried about him?”

Balin shifted in his seat but didn’t look up. He wore his lawyer face as he booted up his computer. Fili had asked the same thing at Christmas when it became apparent that no one had spoken with him. Thorin has been in asshole mode, not relaying much or anything about Frerin. Looking at the tone of some of the early emails, Fili could understand why the secrecy. Frerin had left last spring out of anger, not willingness to help the company.

“It wasn’t unusual for Frerin to go off on digs for a bit and not call. He had OCD like mad, would get on the track of a gold vein or opals or what have you.” Balin looked uneasy as he continued. “Last fall was difficult on all of us. So much anger here, you and Kili leaving. Fili and Sigrid. There was a great deal of upheaval. Things get missed when you are concentrating on one or two things.”

Fili grunted. “Say it like it is Balin. Everyone assumed that Frerin wanted to stay out of the fight between mom and Thorin. After you and Kili left, things didn’t magically go back to normal. Orcs getting rowdy in town, here and in Caras Galadhon. There was already bad blood in the family, it just got set on fire.”

Balin disapproved, Fili could tell but he wasn’t going to sugarcoat things. Kili’s leaving had changed the dynamic here, not in a positive way. Dis had pushed her way into the factory to butt heads with Dain and Thorin changing things like some of the outmoded procedures on the factory floor. When Sigrid became pregnant and moved in, Dis spent time in the Courtyard but had a foot planted on Thorin’s throat. Frerin had come out in different arguments the family had, mostly on Kili’s side of things but not always in everyone else’s favor.

They settled back down though the undercurrent had changed. Thorin had left his brother out there in Moria, had not started sending people to search until January and then only quietly. It was secretive and very unlike the man who had been Fili’s mentor and minor league idol from childhood until the teen years. So many moving parts behind the scenes now that he couldn’t keep track of who was doing what.

“What is this Second Hall stuff? The Chamber of Marzabel?” Tauriel asked when she pulled out an email to help scout for clues.

She looked first at Fili and Balin in confusion as Ori hurried in with bottles of water. Balin pulled out a maps of Moria that had been drawn by a very skillful artist over a hundred years ago when the mine had been a producer. There details of water and lodes in each section, pointing where they had made the best strikes so far.

“Calling Moria a mine is a misnomer. It is more like an underground city, its so large.” Balin traced the lines to the words Second Hall then to the Chamber of Marzabel. “There were areas for the miners to congregate, have worship services. The Chamber of Marzabel was the records room but after over a hundred years, I doubt the paper has survived.”

“Its like a tomb.” Tauriel said, curling up a lip. “Its like they went in but never realized they weren’t leaving.”

Balin shrugged as they tucked into the table to begin searching once more. Fili would read out funny parts to the others of Frerin’s exploits or jokes that he read online about different things. Questions if Thorin had thought about starting an escort service for the harem he had collected over the years. It felt odd to read this now, knowing that Frerin was gone. Fili couldn’t help the tears that started to well in his eyes for the uncle and father figure he had lost.

Tauriel sniggered but then passed Fili two pages as she bent over to make a few notes. He took the pages as Balin looked up from the laptop in puzzlement. Looking at the date, Frerin must have gotten an email that Kili was dating someone.

_Thorin_

_What can I say, it sounds like the boy is happy. Leave him the fuck alone about it, too. Be glad it isn’t one of your ex whores for fuck’s sake. Wouldn’t that be a fun family Christmas if he did!? If Kili settles down and gets married, maybe Fili will do the same. There will be kids all over the mountain again, like when they were young. Fili takes after you, asshole. Neither of you can think properly until you cum._

“That isn’t entirely true!” Fili said in heated defense, catching a look of surprise from Balin. “Its not!”

“We are not..” Balin looked to Tauriel blandly. “Help me out here, what is the new term?”

“Slut shaming?” Tauriel supplied from behind a sheet of paper, though the paper was staring to shake with her suppressed glee.

“Yes! We are not slut shaming you. That is your past.” Balin continued to type was the same placid smile on his face that he had before the convo started. It pissed Fili off to no end.

“Bastards.”

Tauriel snickered but continued to read. Jotting down notes on a piece of paper, she had managed to glen few if any facts on his exact whereabouts at any one time. It was maddening, Fili decided. Why had he been so vague, what had been afraid of to not be more accurate where he was.

“What’s Unobtainium? I don’t remember that from chemistry.” Tauriel looked at Fili who had the deer in the headlights look. “What’s Mithril?”

Balin jumped up to grab at the email but Tauriel hip checked him back to hand the paper to Fili who began to scan the email quickly. He ignored Balin completely even walked down to the end of the table from the two people as Tauriel just glared at the older man. Balin gave her a pinched look as he rubbed his arm, Tauriel must have hit a little harder than at first look.

“Why was Frerin looking for Unobtainium in Moria, Balin? He was there looking for silver and gems.” Fili looked at the lawyer who he known all of his life. A man that Fili knew would borrow, steal or kill for the family no matter how distantly related they might be.

“That’s classified, Fili. I can’t… discuss this.” He looked anxious at the other end of the table but tired and older than he had months ago. Maybe, it was time for him to consider retirement.

“Unobtainium is a rare earth metal but its less mallible than most on the periodic chart when found naturally. I remember Thorin talking about it once in applications. Combine it with a synthesized metal like Osmium, you would have an alloy stronger than steel but weighs less.” Fili was talking off his head, he wasn’t sure who was listing. Looking up from his place, Balin looked worried while Tauriel looked confused.

“Like Titanium or …” She began but Balin got there first.

“Exactly.” He looked hard at Fili down the length of the conference table, willing him to keep quiet. Balin liked Tauriel but it was obvious the lawyer wanted to keep this under wraps.

Fili refused. “This wasn’t for the mine. It was for the Ironworks, isn’t it? If Thorin is developing something that needs Unobtainium, he would have to include Dain and…”

Fili stopped as he remembered all the ‘safety inspections’ they had over the last summer. All of the unannounced visits from the short stacked asshole of a cousin that Fili couldn’t stand. He had been so focused on chasing Sigrid and trying to help Kili with Tauriel, Fili hadn’t really thought on why he was suddenly graced with Dain’s presence anymore than he needed to be. Thorin had started something new and Dain was right in the middle of it.

“I will let this slide for the moment, Balin. But you tell Thorin, this needs to be discussed and soon!” Fili found himself getting more and more angry at what else his uncle might have been keeping from him and he rest of the family. He handed the emails to Tauriel. “Give me the last four areas that Frerin gave in the emails and the date of the emails themselves.”

Taking a seat at the table, Fili pulled out a map of from the bottom of a pile. Tauriel began to rattle of areas with dates while Fili marked them on the map. Each spot showed a definite path to a specific area of the mountains that Frerin had used. Balin watched from the sidelines, looking older as each minute passed. He had known Frerin since he was a kid, just like Thorin but in Fili’s eyes, Balin was just as guilty as those who left his uncle out there. All for a damn rock and secret shit.

“Dimril Dale. That’s where we start.” Fili circled a small area in the mountain chain. “Where were the other search areas concentrated, Balin?”

Balin pulled up some of the notes he had on the laptop. “Westgate and Redhorn Pass.”

Tauriel spoke up, drawing attention. “There is a last entry that mentions of silver fish from the lake.”

“Call Beorn, tell him to meet us at Nimrodel about 7 pm. I think Smaug’s house is near Mirrormere.”

**************

Fili left Tauriel at the building but not before getting her word that she wouldn’t try to make a run at Smaug this morning. It had been begrudging but she had agreed. Nothing could be accomplished until later and they would need to same element of surprise that had gotten Tauriel through her attack at Mount Gundabad. The same kind of luck too.  As long as Smaug was under the impression that his house’s location was unknown, he wouldn’t be expecting it to get hit.

There was the inherent danger of running into Smaug once they got inside. The big man would be a serious contender to their leaving the house in one piece, doing everything he could to change that outcome. Tauriel had found out everything she could about the Orc base before she went, acting with precision and speed to hit them hard. All her preplanning had worked, exactly the way she had wished. Now, Fili couldn’t help but feel that this enterprise was woefully inept and very seat of their pants planning.

The sun would lighten the sky in a bit, colorizing their world for a new day. There were a few lights on in the Courtyard as many stirred and began to move into a morning routine. Seeing Stone and Ori standing by the fire pit, Fili tipped his head them before pointing to Ori’s corner cabin. They waved off, heading in that direction. The blond fired off a text to Dwalin, telling him that he had released Stone and Ori from guard duty in the Courtyard now that he was back. Dwalin responded that he would do sweeps every few hours in between naps but Bifur was staying at Kingdom subdivision today with Bombur’s family and others.

Knocking on Glorin’s door, he was met with a very sleepy looking Mrs. Glorin with a cup of strong brew in her hand. Refusing her with a smile was hard but he wanted sleep, not another excuse to stay awake. There were a few calls he had to make before his head hit the pillow for the new day at the Ironworks but his woman and his mother needed to be fetched.

Both women were already up, they must not have sleep much either. Sigrid’s face lit up at the sight of him, not the spastic puppy happy due to her exhaustion but enough that he felt a weight lift just seeing her. Dis kissed Mrs. Gloin’s veiled cheek while Sigrid shook her hand, both expressing their thank yous for the Durinson’s hospitality. Glorin slept through the exchange, rousing only when his wife spoke low in French before touching him. The guard dog snuffled off to bed with his wife, waving off the appreciation.

Once outside, Dis turned to her son. “Who was it?”

“Radagast.” His watched his mother’s face squeeze in pain for she had known him too. Fili wouldn’t talk about the particulars, he just couldn’t right now.

Taking a steading breath, Dis said as Sigrid stepped into his side but took his mother’s hand. “I am going home for a nap. Then baking to take to the Medveds. That group was closer than family.”

“Stay up at the house, Mom. I will text Thorin to let him know. None of us need to be alone until this is over.” _Until Smaug is dead_ but those words were unnecessary, it just went without saying that Smaug had to die. How it happened, Fili couldn’t say.

Dis nodded as Fili sent off yet another text, her eyes drooping. Imitating Gloin with a wave of her hand, she walked to her cabin to pack a bag. With the Luin twins in Durin’s House, she would be safe for the time being. Thorin had taken to keeping the little burglar very will guarded, more than Fili had expected. Though not kept like a prisoner, protected. Bilbo wasn’t refused access to the grounds, showing no intention to leave them. It was rather puzzling.

Sigrid wrapped her arm around him as they started back, the wind blew gusts here and there but nothing steady. She didn’t ask him questions about Radagast, just smiled when he looked at her as she kissed his ear. It was a comfort, he realized as she touched his neck at the coat’s edge. He had not understood how much he loved that aspect of her, her acceptance and just being there for him.

“Where is Tauriel?” She asked when they made it to the steps of their cabin next door. “She hasn’t left to..”

“No, no.” Fili quickly assured her with a hug. “She was with Balin when I left. Tauriel won’t leave today.”

He caught the look of anxiety on her face as they walked inside the warm house. It was the things Fili had not said, more than what he had which gave Sig that look of apprehension. He hated her worrying, hated that this was causing her stress in the one time she didn’t need it. The doc was happy with his woman’s progress, saying she needed to eat a little more. The baby’s gender couldn’t be known for another month or so and only if the wee one was feeling like giving a show.

“I want some bacon.” Sigrid announced as she stuck her head into the fridge. “You want?”

“Absolutely.” Fili took a seat in his recliner to make his calls. The idea of tasty pig was motivation enough to get this done fast.

Sigrid scurried around the kitchen, laying strips on the broiler pan to put in the oven. She went so far as to plop a few frozen biscuits into the toaster oven to rise to go along with the bacon. Fili smiled at the smell of cooking as he pulled up his contacts. The first call had been to his assist supervisor to tell him what projects needed watching and check with his secretary for the outgoing shipments today. Nileth Silvan was a recent edition and Mirkwood defector that Fili had hired for the office. Tauriel gave her a pass since she was a cousin of hers and sister to Glanwen. The official gossip stated she and Thranduil had a difference of opinion on a matter, causing her to bail.

Sigrid brought a platter, pilled with bacon and biscuits. Taking a seat in his lap, she began to feed him and feed herself until she was systematically nibbling crumbs from his otherwise clean beard. After a few minutes of her tongue on his neck, Fili picked her up to take to the bedroom grumbling about frisky women who can’t leave him alone. It probably wasn’t the right time for this but he wanted her so badly. So much senseless death outside this cabin but she was warm and alive in his arms. He didn’t need motivation but the sense of affirmation was a calming one.

Fili set her down by the bed so get those clothes out of his way. He slipped her sweatshirt off and the tanktop beneath it. Fili wanted bare skin, nothing between them. The more he removed the more frantic he felt. He wanted, had to have it now, her body against him. The deep thud of her heart, the soft skin against his, those were the best things in life. The only things.

Sigrid’s energetic response ramped up as well, as the kissing became heated. Tongues slithered against the other, hands roamed over skin to jerk the offending clothes off to make way for more exposed skin. Their breathing had become pants, Sigrid gasping her desire for him to hurry as the last articles of clothing was thrown out of the way.

Fili picked her up, cupping the muscular cheeks in his wide hands to give them a tight squeeze. Sigrid gasped at the touch but smiled at him after as he took one of her nipples into his mouth to suck lightly. The flesh was warm against his face as he scuffed his beard over the puckered tips. Hands pulled his head back as she dove for his neck and ears, using teeth to communicate where words failed.

Kneeing down to the bed, Fili gently let her go as she fell backwards onto the soft mattress. A dark flush road down her face to cover her breasts as her blond hair fanned out on the coverlet. Not Marilyn Monroe or any supermodel on Earth would ever compare to his Sigrid. She was fire, smoldering hot, waiting to consume him. The fiery lock of her body, held him fast as he slid into her wet channel. Those strong limbs wrapped about his torso and hips, holding on for the ride she was getting as he thrust again and again into the searing oblivion.

The pressure in his balls twisted his brain like a volcano that was nanoseconds from eruption. It was coming, that white lava would fountain from his body before she reached her pleasure. Letting go of her hips, Fili slid his thumb down to the drenched folds of her slit, searching for that tight bundle of nerves. He knew when he found it for Sigrid gasped his name, digging into his back as every part of her tightened into him. Her orgasm rolled over her, flowing into him. The experience of them together was beautiful, passionate and filled with more love than any one couple had a right to in their lifetime.

****************

Sometimes the seat of power is nothing more than a stool, not some mighty construction of steel and overstuffed cowhide. The power emanates from the person who occupies said stool, how he acquired the power and how he doles it out. A man can be great if he does nothing more than sit on a rock. The seat doesn’t make the man, the man makes the seat.

A man called the Red Dragon sat in a sumptuously large and very comfortable chair. High backed, made according to his measurements, Smaug Drake looked every inch a conqueror behind a long acre of wood and marble that was his desk. A long broadsword, a relic from some Teutonic knight lay across the cold stone as Drake ran an idle finger along the cross guard to the pommel. Large rubies dully flashed in the low light, not Erebor rubies but high quality just the same. The only thing missing was a war crown and shield.

“Report.” Smaug’s temper has been keen in the last two days since Mount Gundabad had been hit and his burglar taken. Azog wasn’t worried, well, not yet.

“We have received no word yet. The scouts have sent no indication that the Shireling has been released.” Azog stood ramrod straight before his boss with his son, Bolg beside him. Neither spoke unless spoken too.

“Hmmm. It seems the thank you note and present for Ms. Silvan’s visit didn’t make the impact that we expected.” Swaug withdrew a red cloth to begin wiping down the blade, turning it carefully. “I believe our burglar will need a reminder of her place in the scheme of things. Frodo, come here please.”

A little boy dressed in dark jeans and a red button down with a gold dragon stitched on the pocket came to stand beside the man who held him hostage. He is growing, Azog thought as he looked over and dismissed the boy at once. Rarely did he see the child in any color than red or with a dragon somewhere on his clothes. It was if Smaug wanted to brand the child, mark him as his for all the world to see. A physical possession that had an active mind behind those quiet gray blue eyes.

“Frodo. How important are names?” Smaug asked the child a question and he would get an answer. But never quickly as Azog was want to do.

The boy thought for a moment before he answer. “Names are very important, sir. They are the cornerstone in any language. ‘Whats in a name, that which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.’ It is a means of identifying a thing.”

“Excellent! Excellent!” Smaug smiled as he clapped his hands to applaud his pupil. “Now, do you know my name?”

“You are called Smaug Drake, Sir.” The answer was automatic, though Azog was beginning to lose interest in this childish teaching session.

“Yes but I have another name. Others call me the ‘Red Dragon. Do you see the bald pale man? He is Azog the Defiler. People have names that parents give them, good names, family names. But if they are lucky, they acquire names that are purely their own. Like Richard the Lionheart, Suleiman the Lawgiver.” The tone was patient but there was an underlining to his words that made Azog very uneasy all at once.

“Ivan the Terrible.” The boy chimed in with a tentative smile which made Smaug laugh even harder.

“My point exactly! Very, very good!” The smile didn’t leave his boss’ face as he leaned forward. “Now what finger do you think is the least important one?”

Smaug spread the fingers on both his hands wide indicating Frodo to do the same. The boy lost his smile but did as he was bid, spreading his hands out to separate his fingers. Looking at his hands, he wiggled the ring fingers on both hands.

“Interesting. Why that choice, Frodo?” The Dragon was drawing this out for some odd reason that Azog couldn’t fathom. Even Bolg was getting restless with this game.

Frodo looked at them both for a moment, though not with fear only curiosity. “It seems that while the pinky is the least strong out of the five, the balance of the hand would be off if you lost it. Likewise, the index is the strongest and thumb, the most versatile. Yes, the ring finger would be best to lose.”

“Very persuasive and thought out. I agree. If one was to lose a finger the ring finger would be best.” Smaug leaned back as he watched the child. “Do you know that it was also believed that a vein called ‘the Vein of Love’ ran from that finger directly to your heart? That is why marriage rings are placed on that finger.”

Smaug watched the boy for a moment longer then reached out and pinched Frodo’s ring finger, not letting him drop it. He wiggled it like he might be giving a dog a treat.

“I have decided that if the Shireling doesn’t come home or make an attempt just the same by sunrise tomorrow morning, she will be given a gift. Then you, Azog may enjoy the ladies of the Courtyard.” Smiling his cutting smile, the Red Dragon turned back to the boy who stood pale with his finger still caught. “Dear boy, what do you think of the name ‘Frodo of the Nine Fingers’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok.. I am a lover of Marvel comics; having said that when I was looking at metals that could be used for for Mithril if it were a compound not a single element like it is in JRRT’s work, I ran across this term Unobtainium. It began in the 50’s when aerospace engineers were referring to costly or rare minerals that they needed. I didn’t want to use like Vibranium or Adamantium as they are part of the Marvel universe but I wanted something that was equally different but not an actual metal. Osmium is a metal on the periodic chart, a bluish white mineral known for to be used in alloys for extreme durability.  
> * Sitting on the rock reference is my own nod to the Stone of Scone that had been part of the coronation chair for British monarchs. Suleiman the Lawgiver was call that by the Turkish people, he was known as Suleiman the Magnificent by western civilization.   
> *Frodo of the Nine Fingers, I just couldn’t help that. I read and reread the song on Tolkien’s Gateway.. I picked the ring finger despite the obviousness of the fore finger because well, it’s a ‘ring’ finger. The part with the names was a nod to the Dwarven culture that they have given names that everyone knows but their true names they keep to themselves.
> 
> As always, I thank each who read ... comments, thoughts and kudos are most welcome!


	13. The Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7:30 AM February 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******************WARNING*********************
> 
> This chapter is in two parts, the first part is about Bilbo, the second is about Bolg who does something really bad.. You have been warned.

 

 

Bilbo laughed at their stories, the twins’ antics made them all come alive. The more raunchy the story, the more solemn their air during the telling. Her mam, according to Romestamo, had quite a knack for attracting male attention. Belladonna might not have been a beauty in the traditional sense, there were many other women in the Istari Group who wore prettier faces but nothing upstairs. Her Mam was strikingly vibrant, cloaking herself in joie de vivre like she lived her life naked with only undergarments to wear out on the town. Men swarmed her with devotion, loved her from afar with a passion that only she could inspire. Belladonna Took was anything and everything all at once.

“You loved her.” Bilbo felt nothing odd in herself that Romestamo loved her mother. She doubted they were lovers but his feelings rang clear with every word and gesture.

“I would have married her had she allowed it. Ahhh, Bilbo. I might have been your father and you my daughter.” Romestramo was close enough to touch her with the warm affection in his eyes but held himself back. He and his brother both had issues with personal space.

The twins were excellent company, discussing nothing in general but saying so much. Where Dis’ strong personality might be considered abrasive at the least or intrusive at worst, the Luin brothers were relaxing. Their blue eyes would wonder the room in a hopeless pattern that Bilbo recognized as an offhand watchfulness acquired from years in a combat and tensely social situations. But they were happy creatures, no matter their killer instincts or her sordid past with Smaug. The two men didn’t judge her, yet treated her like one of their own for which soothed the anxiety Bilbo had realized was bubbling under the surface.

She was in contact with people who had known her Mam, people who had held her mother in high regard. No one blamed her for what she had done, accepting the services she had performed as a war crime under duress. Morinehtar Luin had told her previously that the choices she had made, the small acts of rebellion over the years had saved many even now. Bilbo was many things in life but a fool wasn’t one of them, taking their sentiment to heart as a balm for the ragged tears that still bled for the Red Dragon’s victims. She was glad every day that her mother had passed and not able to see what her only child had become. Though in truth had she lived, Smaug would have taken Belladonna instead, slaughtering the household occupants.

Morinehtar was quiet tonight, not as sociable as his twin. While Romestramo regaled her with tales of her mother, Bilbo got the feeling it was more for his benefit than hers. He told her of happier times in his younger years in bright cheery fashion, but there was weight at the end of each sentence as he grappled for another memory. Shadows chased their blue eyes, things that they could not speak of as yet. Whatever had caused Thorin to leave earlier was tied to this gray melancholy. As the sun inched up the treeline to the east, Bee wished that it brought a happier tidings than its pale sister had last night.

So much had been tossed into the air when Thorin left, making Bilbo wish she understood the fine art of keeping her mouth shut. Trying and failing to shutdown the rat race in her mind, Bilbo walked to the kitchen to bake something. Getting out of her head was the only way to dam the endless stream of self-recrimination. Did it really matter if he could have loved her? What did it mean if they were long past it now? There was no hope?

Sifting the flour and baking powder together, Bilbo set the mixer to cream some sugar and butter. Baking helped her to see the end of the tunnel when all other things crowded together to block the exit. Laying out a few blocks of cream cheese to warm, she breathed deep the ingredients, pushing away her stupid thoughtlessness. Baring her soul to such scrutiny had not been easy nor wise, but to think there might have been a chance for them was worth the gamble.

The brothers had followed her after a time, she wasn’t entirely free. They took a bottle of water from the fridge before sitting in the den. The TV wasn’t turned on, they had no interest in it. Neither did Bilbo as she continued the work. Tossing the cream cheese and vanilla into the blender with the sugar and butter, she preheated the top model of the double ovens. Taking a shallow Corningware pan, Bilbo filled it with water so a bath would steam up the oven and allow the pound cake to rise like a soufflé.

The men didn’t talk now, though Romestrano took a call outside. He had begun speaking in Russian as he passed, shooting her a look with the phone at his ear. Bilbo didn’t understand Russian, French and Spanish had worked for her. Serbian was tough language but she had learned certain words and phrases. Nothing she would dare use in polite conversation of course, Azog the Defiler would snarl threats at her in that guttural language. Mostly the horrid stuff he wanted to do to her or so the translator app on her phone had said.

Dipping her finger in Crisco, she methodically swirled the white greasy substance around the sides of the bundt pan with her mind chewing on this new development. The ban of Smaug’s life was a Russian by name of Beorn who lived at Carrock. The big bear of a man had killed so many Orcs and Spiders none ventured within ten miles of the hamlet’s immediate vicinity. A stray would be found dead with a star carved into his cheek as a mark that the Mad Russian as he called was responsible for the death.

The talk about Beorn was fierce, some said he had been Smaug’s partner once upon a time, a pit fighter who rose through the ranks to sit at Drake’s right hand. Some dared to say Beorn had been Smaug’s lover. There had been a dreadful song the men had sung about ‘the Bear and the Dragon’ but never in Azog’s presence or Smaug’s if they had been around Mount Gundabad. Whether or not Beorn had worked for the Red Dragon, Bilbo couldn’t say. She just knew that he killed any that came within range of his home.

Once the creamed mixture was ready, Bilbo folded the flour and baking powder into it, then added the beaten eggs. The pale wispy texture was added to the sugared bundt pan just as Dis and Tauriel walked into the door with Romestrano not far behind. Thorin’s sister walked to Morinehtar, speaking low but taking his hands in hers as he nodded. Tauriel looked at Bilbo as she placed the pan in the humid top oven then set the timer.

“What are you baking?” The wild card asked as she walked to the bar.

Bilbo could see she was armed heavy with a long knife at her thigh and a saber on her hip. The carbon fiber tact harness across her chest held another knife, handle down with a radio and mic still live for comms with Erebor. The digitized black camo with muted gray overlay she wore was next generation stealthwear for the average merc or black ops. It was all clean and freshly new out of the box, only a little mud on the boots. It was like a seeing a girl who had been stood up for the prom. Tauriel was all dressed up with no one to kill.

“Cream cheese pound cake.” Bilbo answered as she began to clean up her mess. Unloading the dishwasher, she reloaded it once more.

“You should make comfort food like chocolate chip cookies. It makes men think of their childhood and happier moments.” Tauriel offered as she took a seat at the table.

Bilbo looked at her squarely, unafraid. “Why would I want Thorin to think of me as his mother?”

Tauriel smiled then looked over her shoulder at the brothers. “Good point, you wouldn’t. But what makes you think I was talking about Thorin?”

Bilbo wanted to smack her forehead on the counter, knowing she had walked right into that verbal trap. It was bad enough that her thoughts were betraying her but it was worse that she couldn’t stay ahead of the redhead in terms of conversation combat. Damnit, she was better than this! Snorting at the wild card who dared smirk at her, Bilbo pulled out the leftover ham to start slicing for sandwiches. There was two loaves risen for homemade bread, Bilbo preheated the bottom convection style oven.

“My, my. Miss Bilbo, you are very domestic. Making yourself at home here in the kitchen.” Tauriel quipped with a smirk as she removed the long knife and saber so they wouldn’t scratch the chairs.

Bilbo snorted. “I’m southern. We like to make sure everyone is fed and watered.”

“Like farm animals. Tell me Ms. Baggins, are you leading us to slaughter?” Her question stopped everyone else in the room from the Luin brothers to Dis.

“That’s enough, Tauriel.” Dis told her quietly while the redhead continued to stare with blazing eyes. “It’s done, we can’t change it.”

Tauriel pulled herself from the visual confrontation to look at Thorin’s sister. “I want to know that Erebor will still be standing in the morning. We aren’t defensible here, can’t keep a cow out of this place.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Bilbo tiredly tossed a towel on the bar, feeling just as rung out.

“I didn’t know you existed until a week ago when I pulled you out of burning car filled will Orcs. So no, excuse me but I don’t.” The wild card’s sentiment punched holes through the thin veneer of sociability that Belladonna had always called southern hospitality, allowing the bitterness to pour out in a stream.

“You are right! You are so right! I was in a car filled with Orcs. Yes, I was on my way back from Dale after spying for Azog and Smaug. But did it ever occur to you that this isn’t the life that I wanted? None of this has been my choice! I don’t want it! I don’t want this life!” Bilbo found herself screaming at the last words at Tauriel, slamming her hands again and again on the granite.

Every nerve, emotion and absent feeling rang with a raw sensation that would have pulled tears from a lesser mortal. Bilbo gripped the counter as she fought off the harsh need to begin throwing food at the damnable female who stared the whole time at her during her emotional tirade. There was so much not said but there was some pride left in Bilbo that stopped the hateful words from spilling forth.

“I just want Frodo. That’s all I want.” She bowed her honey colored head to stare at the counter when the door opened, then closed.

The scrape of Tauriel pulling her sword echoed in the quiet room when a deep voice broke the silence. “Are you causing problems again?”

“Always.” Tauriel snarked at the newly arrived Thorin. “Ok Dis, I’m satisfied.”

Thorin snorted at her as he shed his coat and gloves. Nodding to the Luin Brothers in greeting, he raised a winged eyebrow at his sister. Dis just shrugged, obviously not getting in the middle of whatever this turned out to be.

“What?” Bilbo was confused at what was happening. Thorin swung his gaze back at the wild card.

Changing her grip on the saber’s hilt, so that it angled away from Bilbo, Tauriel replied. “We are going after Frodo tonight and maybe cause a little mayhem in the house of Smaug. There is a possibility we know where it is. I just wanted to make sure you aren’t going to do anything foolish, like trying to tell Azog or-”

Bilbo screamed in frustration, grabbing apples from the bowl in front of her to chunk them at Tauriel. The infuriating hussy had the nerve to accuse her of shit when all Bilbo wanted to do was help! If they got Frodo out, it was the answer to her prayers! Whyever would she sabotage it? The wild card had managed to push her normally sweet nature aside as Bee snatched another piece of fruit to lob at the swinging redhead. Throw after throw of golden delicious sailed across the room until Thorin ran behind her to grab her arms and pin them to her waist. His arms bound hers as his laced his fingers together under her breasts. Tauriel’s laughter echoed through the room as she walked to the door, wiping down the blade’s edge with a paper towel she snagged. Bilbo struggled harder to get free, pushing against the hard body wrapping hers close.

“Nice try, little burglar. I grew up doing that with baseballs. Thranduil throws harder than you.” The redhead let herself out of the house as Bilbo looked at the floor where Tauriel had been standing. There were sliced up apple halves littering the titled surface, Bilbo had barely seen her move.

Thorin held her close as her breathing relaxed from its marathon pace. Bilbo felt him whisper against the curls at the back of her head. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll give you baseballs next time.”

Bilbo laughed softly as Thorin’s body shook behind with quiet mirth, his nose buried in her hair at the nape. Dis shot them both looks of disapproval as she took a plastic bag out to start picking up the chopped up fruit. Bilbo ran her hand over Thorin’s, as a signal to let her go. He exhaled with a sigh, slowly retreating to give her space. She let go of a sigh of her own as the woodsy smells that she associated with Thorin were left behind. Bee walked around the counter to help Dis clean up the mess, already missing his warm embrace.

“The least she could have done was clean up behind herself.” Dis grumbled as Thorin brought the mop.

“I will do it. I’m the one who threw the apples in the first place.” Bilbo took the bag from Dis, turning to make a funny comment to the Luin twins. There was no one there, they had left so quietly. “The twins are gone.”

Dis didn’t say anything, only looked to Thorin as she pulled back chairs to wash the floor. Bilbo looked from one to the other. “What’s happened?”

Thorin drew out a sigh as he brought the Swiffer to squirt the bottled fluid all the areas needed. “Another body was dropped at the gates. Radagast Brown.”

Dis rubbed Bilbo’s arm as the honey blond looked back and forth at the siblings. “But Radagast… he was their friend. Gandalf’s too! Why didn’t they tell me?”

Hours they had been here at the house with her, never saying a word. They had kept her spirits up with jokes and old stories while their own sunk with heavy grief. They would leave for Carrock most likely with Gandalf that was probably why the Russian was calling earlier. Beorn and Radagast were partners and good friends to boot. Beorn would be going ballistic over the loss of his friend.

“To save you the worry.” Thorin snatched the used cotton pad off the bottom of the mop to toss it in the bag with the apples. “Smaug left a note that you needed to be returned.”

“Smaug isn’t going to stop, Thorin. Not even if I go back but it will slow him down for a while.” Bilbo told him, looking at him for understanding. It was time for him to let her go, to save the others from going after Smaug. “I’ll get my things and go.”

Thorin grabbed her arm as she tried to walk passed him. “No, he isn’t going to stop. And no, you are not leaving.”

***************

The blond woman beneath him croaked out yet another half scream as she came one more time. Bolg had lost count at this point but he had to admit he hadn’t cared in the beginning. The slapping grunts filled the room as the smell of sex and unwashed bodies brewed into a rancid cocktail. On her hands and knees, from this angle, the bleached blond might have been his pet. The skin was darker than Sigrid’s but her body shape was the same. Without tan lines, he guessed that there was Latin or African blood somewhere in her family tree but she never said. Fucking her doggie style negated her taller height and hid her face, helping Bolg keep his fantasy going during the long fuck he was having. It had been almost an hour and he hadn’t cum yet, so caught up in the mental image of his cock disappearing in and out his dream girl.

The Orc leaned forward across the woman’s sweaty back to grab the soaked sheets in one hand and a swaying tit in the other. The woman, Ginnara, groaned low as Bolg twisted her nipple, thrusting her hips back on his hard cock. It was rather the same reaction that Sigrid would have in Bolg’s lighter fantasies. The other, darker imaginings drew blood but she loved it just the same. His sweet pet would want anything he gave her, anyway he wanted.

“Please, I wa-“ She began to beg but he tugged the stiff flesh between his fingers a little harder.

Her sexual growl escalated to a squeal in pain. “How do you address me, meat?”

“Master!” Ginnara gasped to put a steadying hand on the bouncing headboard as it banged repeatedly against the wall.

Releasing her skin, Bolg smoothed his palm over her abused nipple as she began to throw her hips back at him once more. Smaug had told them to be ready just in case the Burglar made it out or the Durinsons released her. They were still going to hit Erebor’s Courtyard, Azog had demanded it for the aggravation of Mount Gundabad’s destruction. Deciding to waste the time close by, he paid a visit to one of his informants who lived off Esgaroth Road. Good pussy but with the possibility of finally getting his pet, Bolg felt compelled to tied up all loose ends.

Ginnara was one of Dain’s whores but she hated the little no dick man as she called him. The King in the Iron Hills paid for her time and her pussy but never cared if she enjoyed what he demanded. Bolg had run across her one day last fall when she was seen leaving the clubhouse. He followed her home, forcing his way into her cottage before she could stop him. First he had given her money, now he gave her his cock when she gave him good intel. Sometimes he wonder if the shit Ginnara passed along was true or just an excuse to get laid.  

Without warning, Bolg pulled his cock out of her soaking cunt to pushing it into her ass. The woman screamed in pain beneath as he fucked her with longer, slower strokes. The whole time murmuring Sigrid’s name in longing growls. Ginnara tried to scramble away from the invader in her bottom, but the larger man twisted her arm behind her back to push her face into the bed. The pleading began almost immediately when she realized she was caught with no escape.

Holding her down was getting him excited, hurtling him closer the orgasm that had been just out of reach. Letting go of her hip, Bolg grabbed the long knife beside him to plunge it into the back of Ginnara’s neck. Her screams became gurgles as her throat filled up with blood, her struggles weakening. Crimson droplets sprayed from the sliced artery as he continued to stab her over and over as he came in her clenching ass. Leaving the blade at her neck as she slumped to the bed in death throes, Bolg held her hips up to ride out the last of his orgasm.

Breathing heavily with exertion, he ran his hands over her back to trace patterns in her red soaked hair sticking to the skin. “Thank you Ginnara, for one last fuck. But I don’t think my sweet pet, Sigrid, will want to share me in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... Obviously the rating had to go up because Bolg just got nasty. His delusions are getting worse in some ways but he still doesn't know about Sigrid being pregnant. She is taking online classes and really staying away from people.. out of sight out of mind unless you are bolg.... I am not a fan of that kind of sex,(blood, murder, necrophilia) but he is a nasty character and I have a plan for him. This is just part of his spiral that gets him to the Battle of the Five Armies at the end. 
> 
> Ginnara is a feminized version of Ginnar. It was the name of a Longbeard Dwarf who was called the deceiver. There had been mentions of people who were working with the Orcs but had ties with the MC, she was one of them.


	14. Childhoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4:30 pm February 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has left comments and kudos and reads this left turn of the Hobbit story AU.. It is so inspiring to me and thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

 

Fili woke with a start, like he was being watched or someone touched him out of deep sleep. The shade was drawn, darkening the room but screwing up Fili’s sense of time. Sigrid wasn’t in the bedroom as he threw off the last visages of sleep, sitting up in the bed. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he reached for cell from the bedside table for time. It was a little past four, telling him he had been down longer than he had wished. Sex was better than a sleep pill everyday of the week, better when he was already tired.

Getting out of bed, Fili stumbled into the bathroom to relieve a very full bladder. The messages would have to wait due to more pressing issues. He may or may not have awakened in late morning for the same reason but that might have been part of a pee dream. The peach and cream tones in the bathroom had not been a great source of interest for him, however Sigrid loved it completely. She had been decorating a little at the time, pulling him into different areas of the house for his opinion. He had brought up the idea about moving down to a house in Kingdom subdivision at the base of the hill once things quieted down and life went back to normal. Sigrid had agreed with a smile but had not wanted to right away, loving their little cabin the way she did.

The idea of a house full of stair step kids made him smile wide every time. Sigrid wanted a tribe of blond haired rugrats and what she wanted she got. Fili had known she was the maternal sort from the beginning, but it had not been what hooked him so completely. He had to work hard for her to look past his reputation. Sigrid was just a sweetheart of person, loving and kind. He wanted to give her the world but all she wanted was children. So Fili realized that he would take the old school mentality that if at first you don’t succeed, take Viagra and try again. Or as many times as she would let him.

Pulling on clothes as he hopped one legged into the hall, the smell of cooking food teased his nose. Walking into the kitchen, his woman was pulling a large pan from the oven to set it on mats beside the stove. The smell of barbequed chicken instantly filled the space, wrenching obscene noises from his gut.  Fili stood in the doorway watching her, smiling at her domesticity. Sigrid was working towards a degree in Urban Planning with ideas how to revitalize Dale and Laketown. Hopefully once Smaug was gone, those ideas could be put to use to make their community better in the long term. She was undoubtedly the Mayor of Dale’s daughter.

“Did you sleep?” He asked to get her attention more so just to see her smile. “Where’s Tauriel?”

“She left about an hour ago. She was heading to the Ironworks.” Sigrid’s eyes were red and her lip trembled. “Tauriel said you wanted to with them tonight.”

Damn her, Fili thought as he crossed the kitchen to take Sigrid in his arms. She held him close, pushing her face into his neck as the fear for him took hold. Her taller height had his face at her thought but he didn’t care, never had. Long pale arms shook with emotion as they clutched him with surprising strength.

“I have to do something, babe. There is no way I could live with myself if I just sit on the sidelines.” Her fingers dug into his back as tears wet his neck. She was hurting and scared for him, making want to lash out something, anything to make her pain go away.

“I know. It doesn’t mean I am not afraid.” She whispered, her lips moving along his skin as she spoke. Fili hugged her tight before rubbing her spine in soft circles.

“I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart. It isn’t good for the baby.” Fili back up to take her face in his hands. “I love you and I will be back in the morning. Now what are you cooking?”

Sigrid laughed at him with tears in her eyes before kissing him fully. “I can always count on your stomach. The baby is fine, my love. I will worry as much as I please!”

An army might march on it stomach according to Napoleon but Fili could never really do much before he was fed. Dis had picked on her eldest that every bet he and Kili ever had involved breakfast in bed to the winner. Now years later, some of his fondest childhood memories were of him and his brother eating pancakes in bed while they watched cartoons. The idea of the raid tonight on empty stomach just filled him with dread.

“Tauriel said nothing too rich or a lot of carbs. With your sleep a bit off, a heavy meal would make you tired.” Sigrid began to plate up some chicken and bean salad for him but smiled when she saw his face. “You’re mad that she told me.”

Fili sighed. “It should have been me, honey.”

“Yes but then I wouldn’t have cooked the right things for you to eat.” Sigrid logic in this situation was unmistakable. She might be right but so was he.

They took seats at the table, tucking in with their meal. Sigrid didn’t force conversation like some might expect, pretending that he wasn’t going off to fight their enemy. She sat back and let him eat or talk as he wanted too. It was part of her character, one aspect he loved, though he didn’t always know what she was thinking. At the end, she was chasing some beans around her plate with a worried expression on her face.

Fili cleared the plates away, packing up the dishwasher until it was full. He waved off Sigrid, telling her she cooked so he cleaned. She smiled as she handed over her plate, kissing his barbeque slicked lips. The feeling of sharing, the rightness of it never stopped between them. It something that the bastard Bolg would never understand about her. Her gentle soul had quieted his. Sigrid had burrowed in so deeply that there were days that Fili only felt like he could breathe when she was near. He could never ever let her go.

Once he was done, Fili took her hand, leading Sigrid into the bath with him. There was time, the sun wouldn’t be down completely not for half hour yet. He took off his sleep pants and tshirt, giving Sig a smile as he did so. She rolled her eyes, taking off her clothes as well before wrapping her hair up in a bun. It was fun to shower together, a favorite evening activity. Sigrid would let him have his mornings, mostly out on the porch with his pipe before showering to go work. Until Tauriel had come, their pattern of nightly behavior had a steady course, mostly unto themselves. With the Ms. Silvan out of the house, he wanted this quiet time.

Sigrid’s body had thinned down due to morning sickness. She still walked daily with Dis, not running due to the icy temperatures. The weight loss was showing through her midsection but not through her chest as far as Fili could tell. What she lost now would come back in the later months as the baby grew according to the doctor who urged her to each more. He hadn’t quite understood that she had no appetite thanks to the vomiting.

The shower spray hit them both, blasting them with steam and hot water. Fili exhaled away his tension as he rolled his shoulders against the heat. Sigrid took a loofa and began scrubbing his back with measured swipes. She knuckled into his shoulder blades, tugging groan after groan from him as the knots released. Sigrid could have been a massage therapist with such strong hands that she had.

When he took the sponge from her to start on the front, he felt her hands at his neck with thumbs pressing into nerves and bones. She knew he loved that sensation, the dexterous feeling of her hands upon his body. Sigrid laid her head on his shoulder as he finished, then stepping away to let him wash his hair. Once he was done, she pulled him into her arms to bury her face in his neck.

She gasped once, speaking low in his ear. “Come back to me, please! Come back to us!”

Fili’s arms tightened around her, hating the thought of letting her go. “I love you, never forget that. I love you and my baby more than my life.”

************

Fili trudged to the Ironworks with grim determination and a heavy steel axe. He lit his pipe for a good jolt of nicotine as he walked, his mind on other things. Fili might not have the tactical gear and toys that Tauriel possessed but he wasn’t a slouch. The navy BDU pants were clinched into his Blackhawk boots, cold compression gear layered against his skin. Fili had a knife strapped to his thigh and another off his belt. Two lightweight throwing axes called Franciscas were tucked into the waistband at his back under his navy pullover.   He knew he wasn’t the brains, merely the muscle as he hefted his double headed axe to a shoulder.

Nileth was on the other side of the joined tables, piecing together arrow shafts. Tall and lean, she gave him a grave nod with a wane pinched look. Fili had always known that she had this training, she had come from Mirkwood after all. But after two months of seeing her in powersuits and skirts, it was harder than he had realized to reconcile this image to his ideals. Like seeing a svelte supermodel at a pie eating contest, it was a double take for him. There has be no little amount of skepticism once she had started at the Ironworks but Nileth had quickly demonstrated that she was a capable individual. Whatever her reason for leaving, Fili thought he was glad that Tauriel had pointed her towards Erebor.

Nileth was a beautiful woman, a common trait among the Silvans. The LED lighting overhead hid the telltale red in her auburn strands, but not the creamy green of her eyes. Tauriel’s was closer to emerald where Nileth’s could have been called jade. Taller than Tauriel by a good three inches, she literally towered over her boss especially when she wore heels. Thank god that wasn’t often.

A year ago, Fili knew that he would have been hitting on her with military precision, trying his best to see what if she was a moaner or a screamer behind that calm exterior. Now that Sigrid was a permanent part of his life, he could accept that she was beautiful and leave it there. He felt none of the fidgeting need to climb into her panties like he once did. Plus, there was the whole sexual harassment one on one with HR that Balin required each year so that Fili could stay employed at Erebor. Honestly, Fili thought as he made himself a cup of coffee, why not tell him to write ‘I shall not shit where I eat’ a hundred times a week? You get caught balls deep in an admin in a conference room one time and you get a label on your file!

Slurping his coffee, Fili looked around for red menace. “Where’s devastator?”

The breakroom had been deemed off limits and locked while Tauriel’s boxes of tricks were stored there. Thorin and Dwalin had both felt it was safe as any other place but their really didn’t want ordinance in the Courtyard. The possibility of a meltdown was always present at the Ironworks but the room had blast shielding in the walls between it and the outside factory. A saferoom just in case of an accident with its twin on the other side of the building.  Tauriel didn’t want the cases in Durin’s House, so they agreed to close off this breakroom for planning and storage.

Nileth chuckled softly at his description of her cousin. “Running the perimeter with the NVGs. Tauriel wants to make sure the goggles won’t impede her depth perception at a full out run. She never used them much at Mirkwood, even less in Paris.”

“Was she always so focused? My memories of her are spotty but she was only like four at the time.” Any anger he felt at his brother’s woman evaporated on the walk to the building. She was looking out for him, just like the other women in his life.

“I don’t know. Tauriel and I didn’t grow up together. I knew of her but would only see her once or maybe twice a year at family reunions. She was never allowed to stay long during those times.” Nileth’s expression closed as she spoke as if there were things she would rather not say or things that she couldn’t say.

Fili would never have called her a warm person, Nileth didn’t invite conversation. Neither did Tauriel in that respect when he first had been in her company. Standish, remote were the words he could have used to describe her, Nileth was cut from the same cloth. Fili figured that like her cousin, she would let go of whatever held her in check eventually.

“I smell Thranduil behind that.” Fili told her, testing the waters. The Sindarin was not his favorite person by any stretch.

Nileth finished with the shafts, checking the lengths before lining them up to the side. She sighed. “Yes. He was very possessive of her.”

Whether or not she was aware of Thranduil’s trip to Erebor in an attempt to bring Tauriel back to Mirkwood, Fili didn’t know. The Mirkwood staff were not confined to the estate, he was sure if they had talked about the Blond Bastard’s stirring up trouble on Thorin’s doorstep.

“It’s strange to think of him as her dad. He doesn’t seem like the warm and fuzzy type.” Fili finished up his cup before sitting it down to look over the containers, Tauriel had shipped to Erebor in light of her arrival.

“He wasn’t, more controlling than warm and fuzzy. I was twenty when I went to work at Mirkwood, Tauriel was eighteen. It became obvious right away that anyone who was too close to her particularly men, were either fired or transferred off the estate.” Her voice was tight as she began coiling a length of rope. “Melephin was head of security before her, he spied everywhere for Thranduil.”

“Legolas had a thing for her. He never knew that she was his sister?” Fili moved up and down the table as he talked, curious about her perspective.

There had been so much speculation about that one subject Fili couldn’t begin to understand what was in Leggy’s head now. How does one handle or just not know that you are hitting on your sister. To Fili, it was completely unfathomable. What would have happened had they slept together? What kind of two headed monsters would have spouted from that kind of union?

“No. We Silvans didn’t talk to others about our family or their business. When Merethen moved back, she told less than a handful of family who Tauriel’s father was then only for emergency purposes. While we talk amongst ourselves, what happens in the family stays there.” Taking a deep breath, Nileth shook her head. “Tauriel is a bit clueless when it comes to men. Being cooped up in Mirkwood made her hopelessly shy around people, particularly men. Legolas would have had to show up in her bed naked for her to get what he was screaming.” She smiled at him across the table. “It makes me wonder often how your brother succeeded where so many failed.”

Fili wouldn’t tell Nileth because it wasn’t her business. If others did that was on them, but not many knew. Where they were now was a far cry of where they had been last year. Tauriel might not have understood how quickly his little brother had fallen for her, or how hard. When it was good between them, Kili had been happier than Fili had seen him in years. But then they had fought or there was a problem, his baby brother had swam his way into a bottle for days on end. Kili’s self loathing had been hard to bear.  

“Kili is a charmer, no doubt about that. He doesn’t get stopped by much if he wants it badly enough.”  

She snorted at him with a smile on her lips as she walked to the far end of the table. Tauriel had laid out her knives and swords. She had mentioned that she missed her Khurkuris back in Paris, used to their weight. There had been no way to get them through customs in the time allotted so Fili had sent several from the Armory for her to use during her stay. Nileth pulled them from the sheaths checking their sharpness with a piece of twine. Taking a whetstone from its box, she sat in a corner to beginning honing the few she felt needed it.

Nori and Bofur piled inside, arguing over some hockey game and the points spread. Nileth watched them both with an amused smile but said nothing as they continued to bicker back and forth. Bofur had been about to get loud as Nori snickered at him in derision over some of his comments on various players. Fili was two seconds from throwing something at them when Stone walked in followed by Tauriel and Thorin. Dwalin couldn’t be far behind them.

She looked him over before giving him a bright smile that made Fili sneer. Tauriel had on the same outfit she wore last night, black digitized camo complete with the footwear. A saber was strapped at her back for the run but she wiggled out of it, placing it to one side. She dug into a pack of batteries to put fresh ones in the night vision googles since the others had some use. Bofur had brought the pair she had lent him before, replacing the batteries in them with brand new.

Nori walked over to Nileth quietly as she continued to hone the blades. They spoke low tones with Nori’s hands behind his back the whole time. He was often a casual observer in the back of the room, however tonight he was unusually attentive to the tall auburn woman. Stone walked around them, trying to offer an opinion on her technique but the Tauriel’s cousin shot him down each time. It wasn’t cruel, the way she did it without snark or attitude but finally Stone walked over to Bofur to figure out the lay of the search and rescue tonight.

“I spoke with Medved just a little while ago. He has two teams ready to meet at Nimrodel in an hour’s time. Mount Gundabad and Dol Guldor are still very active he said from the reports his men have coming in. The March Sentries at Caras Galadhon and the University are reporting increased activity lately and they are not pleased.” Thorin looked around the room at the principals involved as Gandalf slipped into the room.

Tauriel pulled out maps of the general area of the county and the Moria area specifically. She looked grim. “They are expecting us to hit Dol Guldor next since Mount Gundabad has been raided. It would account for the increased activity in the University area as well as the town. With them pulling in their extras, it stands to reason that the house as lower security.”

She swiped the screen of her tablet, opening up a folder. Multiple aerial photographs cascaded to the screen. “Once we knew where to look, the region’s topography was screaming the location. Possible roads and paths. However, I am still unclear on how he managed to build something there, even half into the mountain without owning it? The ownership is currently in dispute between the Treebeard conservation and Lothlorian Uni.”

Thorin spoke up. “The whole area is unavailable for camping or hikers. The crags are too sharp with unsafe trails. Beorn has kept Carrock clear along with the March Sentries to the south to handle Orc and Spider activity.”

Tauriel was giving Thorin a look that Fili didn’t understand. “Still its too much risk for that.”

“Maybe but no one goes there. Remote for all intents and purposes. Smaug wasn’t worried about who owned it on paper, they would have had to fight an entrenched squatter with the manpower to repel borders.” Thorin reasoned as he looked at the photographs on her table. “What’s your in?”

The redhead walked to the other side of the table where a large map of the general area was spread. Taking a pencil, she began to trace a line making three ‘X’s at different points. Tauriel drew the line into the mountains stopping at the southwest corner of the Mirror Lake.

“We will take two vehicles. Stone will set up here at Ravenhill in one. It has a good vantage point above Kingdom subdivision with a clear shot if there’s pursuit. If there is, we will start flashing lights once we round this curve here.” She circled the bend in Esgaroth road were it bent into Mountain road at the base of their property. “There needs to be something in place to knockout any aggressors.”

“We will have that covered. Continue.” Thorin indicated to the map as the others crowded around to watch. Stone nodded his head to her accepting his orders.

“Nileth? Why don’t you pair up with Stone? Two pairs of eyes are better than one.” Fili looked to Tauriel’s cousin in question but smiled when the taller woman gave a nod. “Thank you.”

“We meet Beorn here.” Tauriel pointed to the first X on the map. “He sets up his second crew here.” She pointed to the second marker. “We leave the vehicles here and go on foot. Estimated two miles on foot.”

“Two miles is hike with a small boy to slow you down. Especially if you are running it out.” Thorin argued as he pointed to the last circle on the map. “What’s this?”

“Durin’s stair. A foot path from the vale below to the top of the Tower promontory. A good place to start.” Tauriel watched Thorin as she continued. “I don’t know what’s in the ground there. I would say more razor snares than landmines and better sensors than bottles and bells in trees. But we are going in blind and that bothers me.”

“Where’s Dwalin?” Fili asked since the big man still hadn’t shown up. “I’m surprised he isn’t here.”

“He’s at the mine.” Thorin responded as he looked over the map, not saying anything more like if he offered no advice he wouldn’t be blamed if the mission failed.

Tauriel watched his uncle close with a sneer begging to snap at the older man, probably drawing the same conclusion. Fili knew that her decision to go wasn’t weighted on Thorin’s opinion. She was going regardless of any of their wishes. Thorin scrutinized the map for a few more minutes, shrugged his shoulders. If her level of irritation with Thorin was based on what they learned early this morning, it was justified. Fili didn’t care about Tauriel learning the family dirt, she _was_ family as far as he was concerned. He cared that his Uncle was displaying no real thought for his family who he was supposed to love.

“Do you think Bolg will be there?” Fili asked her. The idea of getting his hands on that bastard was one of the real reasons he had pushed to go.

Tauriel turned to him, her stare heavy. “No but don’t discount it. Listen to me, Fili. Don’t chase that monster tonight. He isn’t the objective. Getting Frodo and getting back alive is.”

“Maybe, but I will be much happier when he’s dead.” Fili snorted at the redhead because he really wasn’t kidding about getting his hands on Bolg.

There had been no packages sent since Thorin now had a house guest. Whether the two situations were related, Fili couldn’t know. But if Tauriel had inadvertently killed Bolg when she blew up the installation, that was all fine and good. If the bastard was still breathing, then Fili had every intention of punching his ticket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this story is getting darker with each chapter, so I could never blame anyone for choosing to give it a pass. There is some humor but not as much as the other parts. (I laughed my way through the Concubine chapter) anyway.. Other deaths are coming in the next three chapters because they are hitting the House of Smaug and it shit gets real after that. 
> 
> Nileth is a non canon character found on a Lotr lexicon site.. Its a Silvan elf name means Friendly Woman.. not sure exactly who she will be 'friendly' with..


	15. Resolved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6:30 pm February 17

Tauriel was looking over the arrow shafts, picking the ones for the White Fires before banding them together in the quiver. Fili watched her discuss various things with Nileth as she packed the weapons in her sling bag with Nori not far away. She was bringing more of the broadheads than anything else, obviously knowing that they would need the range. The two women talk quietly before Tauriel called Stone over to give him two of the White Fire headed arrows.

“Just in case, make sure you aim away from the friendlies.” Nileth laughed with her on some inside joke but Stone took the arrows with a grin.

Thorin was snarling into his headset at someone, though who Fili couldn’t say. His uncle kept trying and failing to talk which might have been funny if it was Dis on the other end. The vicious expression on the name’s face told the blond that it wasn’t. His mother and the others were meeting at Durin’s house with Dori and Gandalf or so Thorin had texted this afternoon to sit with the Burglar.

“Fine, Godsdamnit! Tauriel, the Mahal goatfucked bastard will only talk to you.” Thorin tossed her his cell as stalked from the room, Fili on his heels.

He could hear Tauriel talking, to Beorn if he missed his guess, telling him where to meet. There were other things on the table tonight besides the mad Russian using Tauriel for a trip down memory lane. Nileth was making some gesture at Nori in reference to his long brown hair, as Fili sprinted passed them. Thorin was out the door heading to the outside doors when the blond finally caught up. The frenzied shakes of his long black hair crackled with anger.

“We need to talk, Uncle.” Fili grabbed Thorin’s arm only to be cast off as the older man barked at him in anger.

“I don’t have time. Fucking Bear! He gets on my damn fucking nerves.” Thorin was in a rant but Fili had been sitting on this since this morning. It was time to shit or get off the pot.

“Its about the Mithril project, so you had better make time.” Thorin froze at the door, his back still to Fili. It was hard not to shove Thorin into wall and hammer his thick skull but the man was family, there may have been a reason for this bullshit.

Fili looked around quickly, seeing the last of the welders leaving for the night, many preferring the later shift hours. The sounds of the Ironworks shutting down like a great storm giant bellowing his last before sleep echoed off the thick walls surrounding them. Fili was angry at his Uncle. There was so much shit that he had started, sins of which he was guilty. How in Mahal’s forge the man could stand in Tauriel’s presence and not grovel was beyond Fili’s capacity to understand. Thorin had deliberately or inadvertently wreaked so many lives, Kili had been so smart to get the hell out.

“What about it?” He was going to brazen his way through this convo, like it was Thorin’s right to use them like pawns on a chessboard.

“How does it feel to know you killed your brother? You sent him to Moria to look for Unobtainium.” Fili wasn’t going to dick around, he was long past that. “The man I knew would never act like you have...”

“Smaug killed him. Or have you forgotten that?” Thorin all but roared at him, his anger making him crazed.

“You put him there, in that damnable place then you left him! You didn’t start looking until January! There had been no word for months in a _New Hampshire winter_! I don’t care if he wanted to be involved in our bullshit fights or not. He could have broken a leg or fell down a shaft and nobody would have known!” Fili just stared him the man who had help raise him but he couldn’t forgive the man who abandoned his own brother. “I would never do that to Kee, not let him sit out there for months with no word. Maybe he has the right idea after all. Go somewhere else, start new.”

Thorin advanced on him, growling like an enraged lion. “If you were smart, you would do what is necessary to get your brother back in that mine! Don’t talk to me about fucking leaving too! I don’t you understand boy! Think! If I had started a massive search in an abandoned mine for Frerin, questions would have been raised like why was he there? What was he looking for? Silver is found in the upper halls but it is only in the depths that you find the Unobtainium!”

Fili snarled right back just as angry. “So what if the mineral is found there? This was your brother, my uncle! Frerin didn’t want to be there. It was all over his emails about the risks but you pushed him to go.  There should have been someone else with him the whole time, me or Kili. Somebody!”

Thorin looked ready to spit nails, so angry that his face flushed. “And have someone find out what we are doing? It was confidential! You and Kili couldn’t be spared from Erebor long enough to go. You need to find out when he is moving home, FYI. I can’t have someone beating us in the gem market! Once the line is in production, the Mitril project will be our new source of income in two years. More money than we can spend in two lifetimes!”

“And you trusted Dain with our future! How does that feel? I asked you about our family and you answer back with money!” Fili took a step closer where they were almost nose to nose as he sneered at the man before him. “As far as I am concerned once this crisis is done, we have no further connection. You hear me old man? Any obligation I have to this place is done!”

Fili spun around to go back to the breakroom, only to see Tauriel and Nileth standing in the doorway. The women watched the exchange, both with an avid expression. Fili had the feeling that if Thorin had made a move on him, one or both would have stepped in. Tauriel leaned against the door jam, her right hand behind her, probably holding a knife. Gandalf slid around the ladies in a boneless dancing way that Fili envied because he was too stocky to ever achieve that level of grace. Nileth gave him a smile as he passed by them but her eyes never left Thorin.

“Gentlemen, I am off to Durin’s House. Dori has promised his roasted tomato soup for dinner with pimento cheese sandwiches. I don’t understand why the man isn’t opening up a restaurant somewhere, his food is awe inspiring. Coming Thorin?” The subject change was abrupt but the anger at least for Fili was sticking around. “Fili, I wish you good hunting.”

“Thanks Gandalf. I hope to see you in the morning.” Fili shook the man’s hand. There was a smile in the old man’s beard while he griped the blonde’s hand firmly, the strength almost belying his age. “Goodbye Thorin.”

It wasn’t over between him and Thorin, just tabled until another inconvenient time. His uncle watched him with the same furious expression that he had seen when Thorin was dealing with Kili. His brother had never lived up to Thorin’s ideals while he, Fili, made every effort, only stumbling once in his lifetime. The man he knew as his idol had turned into a fraud, a cheap Dollar Tree imitation of a good man. Watching the great Oakenshield stalk out of the Ironworks, Fili knew that like his brother, he was finished here. Erebor wasn’t what it had been years ago to him, his family was in ruins now.

Gandalf followed Thorin, nodding to the ladies who joined him to stand at his back. Fili looked at the women for a minute, still mad. “I don’t..I can’t…understand..”

“Then stop trying.” Tauriel broke in with a sigh. “He is his own problem. You would never do that to Kili, nor would I. Let it go, I need your head on straight tonight.”

He acknowledged her with grim look and a shake of his head. The trio walked back into the breakroom, gathering up the toys they would need for tonight. Tauriel began pulling things out of one of the cases, finding a small one foot square box at the bottom. She didn’t open it, just left it on the table. Walking back to the transport case, she repacked everything the way it had been from the bottom up. Tauriel chose the tactical gladius as a short sword, velcroing up a long dirk at her thigh and a shorter knife at the calf.

“What’s that in the box?” Bofur asked as she tossed her weapons bag and quiver over her shoulder, taking the case in one hand and bow in the other.

“Last resort.” She didn’t explain further. Fili wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The silence fell oppressively in the room as they took a moment to piss and gather their things. The axe wasn’t the best for this kind of fight but he had more time with it than any other weapon. He was confident he had the muscle for using it all night if needed.

“Anything else?” Tauriel looked around the room. “All right, let’s saddle up.”

*********

Sigrid shook herself out of the heavy coat as Dori and Gandalf waived from the long table to one side. The two men set out plates and silverware, along with sleeves of crackers and bread knots at intervals down its long length.   The room smelled heavenly, a rolling breath of tomato and basil with hints of onion and garlic. Dis and the woman named Bilbo hustled around the kitchen, grabbing soup bowls toasting half sandwiches in the oven.

“May I help?” Sigrid didn’t want to mess up their routine but at the same time didn’t want to stand around while others did all the work.

“You’re knocked up with my grandchild. Take a seat, missy.” Dis commanded with the air of a wartime general. “I have a salad mixed too if this looks like it isn’t going to sit well with you.”

“You are a godsend. I will stick with the pimento cheese and a salad. Heartburn has been striking with the oddest things.” Dori brought her a cup of tea on his next pass to the kitchen. Sigrid could have kissed him when she smelled the chamomile.

She did manage to load the glasses with ice as well as refresh the coffeemaker. Thorin would be at Erebor tonight and in the courtyard with others scattered in different areas along Mountain Road. The Luin brothers had crashed sometime today but tonight they were on the streets in Dale. Spiders and Orcs had been seen on a few of side streets. Sigrid had no idea how the workers went to the Mine and Ironworks each day, all day then worried their nights away over what could happen now.

Thorin had not shutdown either of the businesses as far as Sigrid knew. Production was still going full steam ahead. Many of the upper management echelon of Erebor stayed at the Durin’s Folk clubhouse at night with their kids downstairs in a giant sleepover complete with marshmallows and air mattresses. Fili had said that their orders had not decreased in the last few months like it usually did. Demand was never this high over the winter months since new buildings didn’t get under construction until spring. Fili thought that the buyers knew of the unrest in their county and were stockpiling now in case of problems in supply later. Everyone was worried it seemed.

Tilda had called earlier with news that Bard was beginning to weaken his angry stance since the attack on Mount Gundabad had been making the rounds. The mayor was of the opinion that the less Orcs the better, especially when he learned that Tauriel was back. The news of Radagast had not gotten that far yet, and privately Sigrid hoped it didn’t. It wouldn’t do for any future relationship between her fiancé and her father if Bard knew of the target on their backs had gotten that much bigger lately.

Sigrid missed them, looking around the kitchen at the others getting dinner together. She missed her family, her brother in England, her sister and father not ten miles away but it felt like further. They were looking at the tail end of February and life had not returned to normal. It hadn’t been normal since Halloween. For any of them. Bard had been angry at her for seeing Fili but livid when she became pregnant and moved into the courtyard. Sigrid prayed for a day when they could all sit down together and be a family again or just not hate each other.

Tauriel had told her where Bilbo had been the night she had been captured, sniffing around her father’s store. Sigrid hadn’t mentioned it to Tilda, unsure if that was wise one way or the other. She had made sure to tell her sister to be more conscious of people, especially anyone who might be a Spider or an Orc. Tauriel questioned at one point what would she do if Tilda were taken by Bolg? Or her father? Would she walk into hell’s dungeon to take their place if it meant they would live? Tilda was fourteen years old, her life would never be the same if those monsters got their hands on her.

“You are thinking of something very hard there.” A quiet southern voice yanked her from her worst case scenario.

Sigrid looked up to see the dark golden curled woman handing her another cup of tea. She stared at the shorter woman long enough that Bilbo’s smile slipped a notch. Sigrid wasn’t fooled by the southern charm or the charming manners, but what the little woman was doing here, Sigrid couldn’t say. Taking the cup from her carefully, she watched Bilbo take a step back and hurry off to another errand.

Dis walked behind her while talking on her cellphone to Kili in Paris. She was joking about things that Mrs. Gloin had told her to tell him to help poor Kili get around town faster. Kili’s idea of a second language was the refried Spanish he had learned at Taco Bell. Tauriel would go with him on the Metro in the mornings so he wouldn’t get lost or worse. Now, Grey Company was taking him back and forth from their downtown office/ barracks. He was grumbling about liking Tauriel better as an escort than her coworkers.

Sigrid knew that Dis had begun to send money to Grey Company on a weekly basis until the threat was stopped. It was an arrangement she had made with Halbarad when Tauriel arrived. There was no way she would allow Kili to be undefended particularly now that people were dying.

“How do you like it here?” Sigrid asked the intrepid burglar when she scurried back into range. The little woman stopped like a mouse before a cat, slightly curious but very afraid.

She ducked her head down as if to hide from Sigrid’s scrutiny. “It’s a nice house. The mattress is a dream, I want one when I get home.”

Sigrid smiled. “They are nice. I would like to ask you a question if I may.”

It was a quiet request to match the quiet smile on her face. No sense starting a fight, when you get more flies with honey than vinegar. Bilbo looked at her questioningly, perplexed at the change in her attitude from what she perceived to be anger from Sigrid just a few minutes ago.

“Do you know if my family is in danger? Does Smaug or Azog or Bolg have any plans against them?” Sigrid hoped she wasn’t being vague, giving out all the names she knew to get a response.

Bilbo sighed long and hard at the questions. “Everyone is in danger. But you more than them. Bard has kept out of a lot of the issues in the past but Bolg is your number one problem. I doubt they are looking right now into provoking your father so your sister and brother are safe for the time being.”

It wasn’t an exact answer she wanted but it was better than nothing. If Bolg thought to use them, it would put her in a bad situation, rather like Bilbo’s at the moment. “I appreciate that. I worry for them if something happened. That is why I understand your incentive. I know what I would do to save my family.”

“Sigrid, I hope you are never in this situation.” Bilbo had tears in her eyes as she continued. “There is so much I want to do to help. But I am scared to death of what Smaug will do if I give any information I learned there.”

“Think about all the ways you can get revenge, Bilbo. We may need them when the time comes.” Sigrid left the chair to join the others for dinner and pray to whatever gods who were listen to being everyone home alive.

*********

“Ok. Its just you, me, Nori and Bofur in the truck. Nothing said will leave this area? Right?” Fili looked at the faces in the backseat before turning to his brother’s woman. “Ok. Now that is established. Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was with the Russian?!”

Tauriel looked at him, every bit as confused by what he was saying along with his tone of voice. “What?”

“The guy was two seconds away from trying to fuck you on the boardroom table last night, audience or not!” Fili was getting twitchy at what had passed over the man’s face when he looked at Tauriel who seemed to be blind, deaf and dumb. “Then only talking to you just now?”

“You are imagining things.” Tauriel sat back in the seat with a shrug. “He knew my mother and me when I was a child. You are mistaking affection for attraction.”

Nori and Bofur snickered in the backseat like little children on a playground, aggravating Fili past acceptable limits. The immature bastards were probably laying bets too! While Tauriel had no obvious interest in Beorn, Fili felt it was his duty to remind her of a few facts.

“Do you remember when the four of us went to Imladris valley last September to see the waterfalls at Rivendell?” It was wrong to bring up the past in arguments but Tauriel wasn’t his, so Fili decided hitting below the belt was ok.

“If you are talking about that jerk..” She began to which Fili cut in almost immediately.

“Yes that jerk. He had no right to be such an ass but do you remember the look on Kili’s face? Because I do!” Fili was almost shouting by now as the fear of that day came back. “He had his bowie out and it was all I could do to stop him. Kili wanted to cut the guy up for laying a hand on you. He would have flipped his wig at half of what the Russian did. He loves you just that much!”

“You think I don’t love him the same way?! Do you know how many women I had to have ‘the talk’ with in Paris because they hit on him?” Her expression was incredulously furious, like Fili might not understand how attractive his brother was. “He designs _bling_ for fuck’s sake! It was happening at every party we went too. Right in front of me!”

Fili watched her closely. It wasn’t what she said that bothered him, it was what she didn’t. “How many men hit on you over there?”

She didn’t look at him, her whole posture screamed go away. Some of what Nileth said earlier came back to him about how she would have to be hit over the head because Tauriel didn’t see that men were attracted to her. Fili had been rather turned off by the fact that she could fight better than him when they met but for Kili, it had been love at first sight. The men in this county knew Tauriel and her abilities as well as where she had trained. Like Fili, they had stayed away for whatever reason that made sense to them. But in a new place like Paris, Tauriel was an unknown gorgeous woman. With no sword or knife in sight, the men there would have taken her aloof nature as a challenge. Kili or not.

“They don’t.” She gritted as she turned to stare out the window.

“You mean they don’t anymore because you hurt one for trying and word got out.” When she didn’t answer, Fili knew he was right. Plus, he knew that Tauriel had not told his brother or Kili would have been in a French jail. “One day, I want you to tell me what happened but not tonight, just to get it off your chest. I don’t want you to be naïve, sister mine.”

“Lass. If someone tries anything, even the Russian, _You Tell Us_. You’re Durin’s Folk now. We protect our own.” Bofur reached over the seat to take her hand in his. The absence of his usual jovial nature emphasized the truth of his words.

Bofur’s assurances and Fili calling her ‘sister’ made Tauriel smile at them before she laid her head back on the window glass. Even Nori with his quick fingers gruffed in agreement. Fili returned her smile with one of his own. The men in this truck may not be all of the Club but they could speak for the rest. Whatever hard feelings might have been there from last fall had melted faster than the snow. Everyone at Erebor knew she would fight for them, avenge and go to war for them. Now they would do the same for her.

“Thank you, guys. Don’t worry about me.” She said softly. “I see a lot further than you know.”

Nori snorted again from the backseat but caught an elbow from Bofur for the noise. Fili reached over to take her hand that Bofur released and gave it a squeeze too. She would be ok, Fili decided, Tauriel was family now. The word ‘family’ tugged at something in his chest at the argument he had with Thorin.

Something must have shown on his face, prompting Tauriel to joke with him. “Have you thought up baby names?”

Fili looked at her as he drove out of the parking lot onto Mountain Road, the men in the backseat laughing at Fili’s wide grin. “Yes and no.. We like the name Bowman or maybe Finn for my father.”

“What about Durin?” Tauriel giggled out her thoughts. “Then he can be a true Durin’s folk. But what if it’s a girl? Name her Durin too?”

Fili laughed at the preposterous idea but the tension was less now for the laughter. The drive along Woodland highway would be lovely if it wasn’t under such circumstances. Tauriel sent off a few texts and emails to Kili who was talking to Dis. The moon crept over the tree line to their left, itching to makes itself known to the world. The stars were veiled, hidden behind the thin clouds hanging together by threads. The wind was blowing in gusty patches, pushing the trees to sway with grey fingers to claw at their neighbors. If there was to be a red dawn, Fili prayed they were all alive to see it.

Nori wasn’t one for silence, so he started singing a round of drinking songs that were popular at the clubhouse. Some were more popular than others depending on the amount of alcohol consumed by the singers. Tauriel began to laugh at some of the lyrics, picking up on a few of the songs by the ending. Many were not to be heard by mixed company or mixed company of a respected sort. Fili didn’t have the best voice but he chimed in with his broken tenor on a few that he liked. There had to be a flask back there for Bofur to be so joyous.

When they arrived at the meeting point, Beorn was already out of his truck walking at a fast gate towards them. Fili told her as she frowned. “Remember what I said.”

They piled out of the vehicle, Fili stepping in Medved’s way intentionally. The big man was dressed in black, only half listening to the blond before him as he stared at Tauriel off and on. The five men stood around a Black hummer and a gunmetal gray long bed truck. Their clothes mirrored their boss, black tact BDUs with lots of metal strapped in lots of places.

“Red Hairs. I bring the comms like you asked.” Beorn called while motioning to one of his men to bring up the case. “You will ride with me in Hummer.”

“No.”Tauriel disagreed as she took the throat mic out of the case he handed to her, passing it to the others. “Bofur rides with you. Fili will be at my blind side. You need to pair up with shorter men to cut at the low angles.”

Medved looked like he would argue but shook his head to walk back to his men. Bofur and Nori began grumbling behind her snorting at something like they were angry. “Spit it out, all ready.” Fili told them.

“We aren’t short.” Bofur argued with Nori nodding his head in agreement.

“You aren’t as tall as Beorn.” Looking at Nori, she continued with a grin. “Or my cousin, Nileth.”

Fili swung an interested smile at the thief while Bofur continued. “Still lass, I don’t get why I have to be with the moody Russian.”

“Better allocation of our forces.” Tauriel said with a smile as they got back into the vehicle while Bofur went to join Medved. “That way I can keep an eye on my brother.”

Fili groused at her but without much heat. He knew that Tauriel would keep him close if for no other reason than to make sure nothing happened to him. He should be flattered in a way but all he felt at the moment was he had just gained a redheaded babysitter.

“I’m not short.” Nori growled at them from the back seat as he yanked off his jacket. He had been braiding his hair on the trip down, obviously a suggestion of Tauriel’s cousin before they had left.

“Yes you are. But Nileth seems to be ok with it.” Fili and Tauriel laugh at Nori complaining as they set off for the second checkpoint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok.. I am very interested in what you think of this chapter.. I loved the brother/sister comments between Fili & Tauriel..ahhhh… In Part 2, I wrote Tauriel as a shy introvert that Kili had to pull out of her shell. She still is obviously if she is missing out of what Beorn is tossing around..it wasn’t something I had planned but made sense when I starting writing the chapter ‘Retaliation’. Unfortunately for Beorn, Tauriel isn’t interested. Its unfortunate for Haldir too but that’s later   
> Thorin is still an asshat.


	16. The House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10:30 pm February 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dry chapter -- slightly boring.

Tauriel handed Fili a pair of the night vision goggles as the vehicles started to move out. Nori was the navigator in the backseat under a coat with a small pin LED flashlight to keep them on track.  It was a slow pace on the bumpy road, with trees a little closer than one would want.  The forest was old here, thick trunked hardwoods could be seen amongst the smaller pines.  The ruts weren’t new, Tauriel mentioned as she stuck her head out the window. Although, how she could tell the difference was a mystery.  It seemed they were taking an awfully direct route, not being shady about it all.  They might as well roll up and ring the doorbell. Then waive.

Fili drove to keep up with the black Hummer ahead.  Beorn had the tail lights covered, reducing the glare blast in Fili’s eyes as the green haze whited out his vision when the Bear touched his brakes.  He could feel a headache already starting as the constant hum and brightness went to work on his pupils.  He was glad he had come but wished like hell he had brought some Advil.

“How much further?” Fili was trying to keep the irritation out of his voice as Nori shuffled in the backseat.

“Second checkpoint should be in at the next bend.” Nori told them in a muffled voice from the dark hood, shutting off the light.  He flipped back the cover, folding the map as he went.

Tauriel pulled the case she had brought up from the floorboards as they crossed over a rickety bridge covering the Celebrant River. The inky water sloshed in its stony banks as they continued. She flipped the lid, pulling eight small discs and six larger ones from the padded foam interior.  Splitting them up, she handed some to Nori before tucking them into the various pockets that weren’t restricted by knives.  For his part, the braided gentleman in the backseat just stared at her, waiting instructions.

“Nori. I want you to put these in different points in the interior but watch me because I don’t want to double up if it can be helped.”  There was a small remote that she tucked into a velcoed pocket on the chest harness under the small knife handle.  Seeing his curious look, Tauriel continued. “It is a small shape charge with concentrated TNT. Safe until armed for detonation.”

“The last resort?” Fili asked as he looked at her. She had her game face on, Halloween scary at close range.

“We will need the distraction when we leave and every second will count.” Tauriel snapped closed the flap on her pants as Fili pulled the vehicle to a stop behind Medved. “Backup into the treeline to point towards the road leading out.  You don’t want to have to turn this thing around to get away if we have Orcs on our ass.”

Fili agreed, waiting until the other trucks came to a halt as he turned the Ford around to park off the side between two trees.  When the others saw what he was doing, they did the same so that the track was clear of vehicles.  Fili had to thank whatever Gods were listening to them, because so far there hadn’t been any issues.  Tauriel got out of the truck, walking around the back end. She motioned for him to leave the keys on the back tire on the driver’s side, but not loudly where anyone could hear.

Medved ambled up in the same lumbering stride as his namesake, rubbing his hands together. He smiled broadly as Tauriel walked behind Fili. “We kill many Orcs, yes?”

“I can’t imagine you are always this bloodthirsty.” Tauriel joked but kept Fili between her and the Russian.  He didn’t mind really if it prevented the big Bear from getting ideas. “We taking the long bed?”

The Russian smiled and nodded as they began to pile into the back.  Tauriel took out a muted black skull cap, tucking her braid inside to pull it low on her head.  The Beornlings did the same, checking their weapons to make sure they were ready.  As the truck began to move forward, Beorn wiggled in his spot a little but Tauriel didn’t pay attention as she looked at Nori’s map beside her.  Fili wanted to snicker but the last thing he wanted was to get left behind tonight by a pissed off Bear. There wasn’t much talk as they made the last stopping point, about a mile and half from Mirror Lake to the right and Celebdil Mountain on the left. 

“What makes you think it’s here?” Nori whispered as they leapt over the sides to the ground.  There was no moon out, no stars to light their way.

“A hunch.” Tauriel told him as she slipped on the NVGs. “There is no record of flooding here despite the lake and rivers which provide fresh water.  It’s remote with a natural barrier at your back with the mountains. If he took the time, Smaug would know the routes through the mine and have the availability for a fast get away on the other side.”

“Yeah but why not the opposite?” Nori persisted. “Why not have the house on the other side of the mountain and escape this way?”

Tauriel unslung her weapons bag to put the White Fire broadheads together, smiling at Nori. “Imladris is on the other side. More commercialized and more people.  Hikers are encouraged to try the Falls area but not come this far north. But you are right, I could have it reversed and the house is on the other side.”

Beorn walked up to her with Fili on his heels.  It earned an annoyed look from the Russian. “But you think he is here.”

“Yes. Dol Guldor is on this side of the mountain chain, so is Mount Gundabad. It makes more sense when you consider that he wants Erebor too.”  Tauriel told him as she screwed in the last of the three heads. 

She clipped them into a small bracket on the side of the bow so that her hands were free and shots were unimpeded. Flipping on her NVGs, Tauriel walked away from them for a few minutes staring right to left in slow sweeps.  Blowing out a breath, she pulled a tablet out of her pack with a mini antenna.  Pushing up the goggles, she turned on the tablet and screwed the receptor into the port at the bottom.  Fili walked up behind her to look over her black clad shoulder.

Seeing his confused expression, she nodded to the tablet. “It traces for radio signals. Cameras, sensor arrays, other things that have ultrasonic. I want to know what is the closest to us.”

Fili shrugged. If the gadgets she carried kept them alive, he was all in favor.  The idea of steeping on a landmine or something equally nasty tightened up his loins. Humans have always preferred to live their lives by daylight. Fili used to think it was because human beings have crappy night vision. It wasn't until he got older and more cynical that he realized it was because they have less to be afraid of during the day. He had been thinking in those terms lately, of wanting to make sure he was there for Sig and their child. But Smaug was something unearthly, if the notes Tauriel gave to him were true. A true hedonistic freak that belonged on a battlefield somewhere in the Dark Ages, maybe having tea with Vlad Dracula in a forest of impaled bodies.  

The dark clad woman took a step forward sweeping with the tablet to the individual path she chose that looked more like a deer trail than a road.  Tauriel moved quietly away from them signaling to Fili and one of the Beorn’s men to back her up.  Nori followed with Beorn and Bofur close in line.  They walked single file for a while, ducking around odd mounds and stumps. The trees were felled naturally, split at the bases from rot or lightning storms.  If wood was being used as fuel, Fili reasoned as he crossed a thin downed tree, the Orcs weren’t thinning the forest.  It looked old, woods that had been digging in their roots for at least a generation.

“How do we know he isn’t home?” Nori whispered in the dark. “Drake could be sitting on his front port watching us sneak across his lawn.”

Bofur reached forward to take a slap at the redhead but one of Beorn’s men pushed him back. Nori could annoy a turtle into snapping, their friend wasn’t immune.  The hatted man had a gleam in his eye like he wanted to brain someone with the large pike that he gripped solidly like a baseball bat but a look from Fili pushed him to back off.  A drunk Bofur was careless and happy; the sober one, like now, was just a touch... _touchy_.  

“If the Dragon is anywhere, it is at Dol Guldur.  My friends have party for him. Cut power lines, melted generator.  He will be close, expecting an attack like at Mount Gundabad.”  The Russian’s words floated on the same current as his breath, a ghostly plume in the still night.  Fili didn’t want to think about what else the Russian had in store for Smaug if he showed his face at the Spider’s hangout.

Tauriel stopped, holding a fist out at level with her shoulder.  Her attention was still down at the readings as Fili flipped down the NVGs for a quick peek. Everyone froze in their positions. Beorn grumbled at his men around him, each one tensing as they raised their short swords to chest height at attack pose. Fili shifted to push the googles up again, the Francescas digging into his back a little due to the odd angle as he looked at the others. Their camo was better, he decided, they blended further into the browned gray forest around them then he and the rest save Tauriel.  He wasn’t going to pay her the compliment at the moment as she huffed with ill-concealed annoyance at something he couldn’t see.

Sliding into the forest cover to their right, the group started again. Stepping now where she stepped seemed smarter than just wondering in the night. Fili could make out the rest of the group, to the back of them, a separate detachment of men.  He could surmise the Russian’s thinking well enough. If the point group that included Tauriel and himself were taken, the backup would run to their aid.  What they were aiding by then was up in the air, so far he had only seen a doe and her fawn in the woods. Time stretched out, the tension ramped to another level as the forest thinned into an open plain.  A tall dark wall extended towards the night sky that he could only assume was the beginnings of the Misty Mountains.

Fili remember camping here as a boy with Kili and Dis, sometimes Frerin would come along with a girlfriend. They would run all over the wooded areas, chasing birds and each other.  He couldn’t fathom how Smaug might have gotten a house built here and no one the wiser.  Across the swath of frozen crunching grass, they sidled in darkness to Dimrill Dale. The open meadow drew him back as he flipped down the googles once more to look around. The topography was simple, stiff ground cover that sparkled in the 3D greenish haze.

She stopped and turned back, taking note of her route.  Reaching Medved, Tauriel spoke quietly. “Let’s split up here.  Leave some of your men to watch our back. We are approaching Mirror Lake to our right.”

Beorn nodded, turning back to speak quietly to the others.  Fili nudged the red head as she typed in quick notes on the muted screen.  Her attention flickered minutely as she continued to peck out words on the little bloom of light. He hadn’t realized they had traveled in so far and were now that the Mine was near. There was an overhang coming up that hid a small drainage stream that the miners used for waste out of the mine proper.  The vegetation had been thick during the summer, growing out of the refuse that had piled up at the mouth.  It was craggy but a good place to fall back if they needed too.

Not sure of why he remembered it now, maybe it was reading Frerin’s notes that dredged up the memories. His uncle gave his location on the right side of the lake, further north from their position.  A place where he knew and that Fili remembered. Smaug might have looked upon him as a curiosity at first, watching from his home to see what his uncle was up too.  However, if Frerin was truly that close to Smaug’s secret hideout, the Red Dragon would never allowed him to live there all summer and probably into the fall.

The mad Russian with Bofur at his side, stepped forward with three of his men in a line him. He pulled a long broadsword from his back, the scabbard only releasing the metal under protest. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them up, the long steel was the right weapon for this giantor of a man.  Might as well do it now, Fili thought, the further they go, the less noise they could make.

Trees knifed toward the starless sky. Branches clapped in a breezed cadence to a hooting owl. The darkness was so thick it looked like a black blanket had been draped overhead. Cold air battered against him, and goose bumps doubled parked on Fili's arms despite the thermal wear.  He began to wonder at the reaction when off in the night, a sudden whine grew in volume.  A mechanical sound of all-terrain vehicles. 

They all crouched down as one, melting back into wider brush.  Beorn didn’t have that kind of luck, the massive truck of a man could only go flat behind a still growing pine. Fili squatted to Tauriel’s right as she quickly tucked the tablet into her sling bag.  She pulled her short sword to lay it on a shoulder as she flattened herself into a space just wide enough for herself and her gear. Her bow was at her feet, almost unrecognizable in the brush and snow. The slender female crouched behind a tree, tightening each finger individually around her sword as the sound drew closer to their position. 

Three pairs of glowing light flickered through the trees, coming at speed from the south.  Based upon their narrow spacing between flickering glow and the height, Fili guess them to be Polaris Rangers.  Spaced wide, they were capable of accommodating four full sized men with a bed in the back for weapons or other ugly things.  The possibility of twelve men were barreling towards them at thirty miles an hour, armed to the teeth if they were Orcs.  So close to the Dragon’s base, Fili couldn’t image these men were not part of Smaug’s security force. His attention flicker briefly to the way they had just came, only to realize it was too late to call for back up and not get spotted themselves.

The three vehicles slid to a halt rocking back as the drivers slammed on brakes to avoid a collision with the others. Fili could make out two Orcs in one vehicle but only singles in the other two.  Some deer were spooked at the water’s edge at the Silverlode River, running away from the headlights as they illuminated the open dale to the lake’s side.

“I told you it was deer!”  One of the Orcs yelled as he left the ATV, a giant shadow moving in the blackness. “We don’t need the monitoring here to be so sensitive that it picks up a rabbit taking a piss!”

“Not your decision, numb nuts. We wait and we watch, only.”  Another bellowed in the dark before flipping on a flashlight to sweep in the area. A raccoon scampered on small legs, trying to outrun the intruder’s light. “Drake’s hopped up because of the shit at Mount Gundabad.  The last thing we need is a problem and he find out.”

There was no sound around them, no call of an animal.  Every creature, big and small, waited in the silence for the men to leave them in peace.  Fili found himself holding his breath, scared that a plume of condensed air would give him away.  As it was, their group was covered well, looking more like growths on the trees than humans lying in wait. A niggling stitch in his shoulder began to feel tight as the tension in his body rose.  Normally, he would have rolled out his arm and popped his neck to get it out but not now. Not with his enemy fifty yards out from his hiding place.  It was like a vicious game of hide and seek and sneeze is making your nose twitch.

The men in the Rangers starting complaining about the cold as they shutdown the engines. The chattering of their teeth typed out an annoying Morse Code as a backdrop to the bitching. One broke away from the units, probably their leader. The Orc was tall as he was broad, dividing the glare from the ATV’s glowing lamps into slices. The male walked around the clearing, using his flashlight to brighten the shadows.  The sickly yellow beam swept by them, broken by sparse limbs and sentinel trunks.  This is why a gun would be excellent right now, he thought to himself, an AR-15 with a suppressor and enough bullets to take them out. Spray and forget. 

“Damnit! Alright already!” The leader yelled at his men before turning back to the group. “We can’t shut down the sensors tonight. Drake will eat my liver marinated with onions and I want that organ to stay on the inside!” The big man slapped one of his men as he walked by, shutting down the Orc’s whining. Keying a radio attached to his shoulder, he reported back. “Tower, this is Lake team.  Wild life have been spotted, and probably the cause of the trip.  We are heading back to base now, so keep the Dimrill grid offline until you hear from me.”  The tall Orc climbed into one side of the ATV beside a shivering guard. “Come on, you fucking pussies.  Let’s get back home so you can change your tampons!”

The engines turned over with a loud roar, ricocheting from the stone crags not far away.  Fili watched as they gunned the machines into a tight arc to travel south.  Once they had left the immediate area, Tauriel slipped from her spot signaling everyone to her.  He could see their departing figures in the forest leaving, but not too quickly in the dark night.

Tauriel leaned in. “We follow now while their electronics are down!  I bet that they will never know we are running in behind them.  Put your NVGs down and follow me. Beorn, pass on to your guys that we are heading out.”

“There might be motion sensor cameras around this Tower place.  Running in might be a mistake.” Nori grunted as he got to his feet. “These guys are on Rangers so we might be running a while and miss the window, then run right into their arrays.”

Fili brushed off his clothes, looking at Nori all the while. “We aren’t too far.  Durin’s Tower is to the south; my money is on them having a lookout base there.  This tower control place.”

Beorn hummed in agreement, as he set off in the trail.  Looking around, Fili realized that Tauriel had already left.  Shaking his head, he pushed Nori to get moving as they thumped along the rutted path left by the ATVs. The frost made the paths shine whitely in the darkness, clinging to the trees in drooping webs of ice. At a high peak to his right, the wind sobbed and whistled as it creased around the stone façade of the mountains. 

Their footfalls were loud in his ears, or maybe, it was his blood pumping. Beorn caught up with Tauriel with Bofur and one of the Russians.  Fili was hot on their heels with Nori falling to the rear with the other two Beornlings. They weren’t on a road, more of track, jogging at a steady pace.  It might be mistaken as something else for it wasn’t straight but curving, the twists of a snake’s coils.  In the daylight with the grass not beaten down, it would like anything else, just a place that the wood had not taken for its own.  One of the Russians stumbled ahead, mistaking the clean cut stump as a clump of dirt.  Bofur grabbed his back, pulling his upright as they continued on.  The high weeds muffled their run, swallowing the sound in ferns and leaf debris.

A stitch began in his side, telling him that he was more than a little out of shape to be trying out for this marathon.  Fili gripped the axe behind the head to keep it from banging his knee.  The Russians blasted by them, looking freshly energetic. Long BDU covered legs ate the ground in mile eating strides.  Even, the Bear didn’t show any signs of slowing down. The old bastard was fifty if he was a day! Poor Bofur and Nori looked ready to collapse, hunched at the waist as their gait lagged. They would need a breather before actually getting into a hand to hand.

Suddenly, Tauriel dropped down before them, flat to the ground.  The wave of reaction rippled through the line as each grounded themselves in relation to their placement.  Fili looked around to get his bearings, to find the threat that halted the redhead in her tracks.   Straight ahead was Zirakzigal or Celebdil or Silvertine depending upon who you asked.  A place that held its original names rather than be smothered by 'proper' ones. All of the mountains here had two or three names based upon the ownership.

The ruined crag blocked his view, only showing as a wall in the googles.  Getting frustrated with his lack of vision he pushed up the optics and almost wished he hadn’t.  Fili could just make out pinprick lights far ahead at the top of the wall, cylindrical points blinked in the night.  Durin’s Tower, he thought as he inched forward. It had been a lookout point for miles during the haydays of Moria, carved out of a plateau at the top.  The only way to access it was a long staircase from within the rock, if his memory was correct. If the stories that Frerin had told him were true…The Orcs would have to be in the mountain itself to get to the Tower.

The interconnection of the Moria tunnels was massive, a whole civilization had grown underground over a hundred years ago.  His ancestors had dug for gold but found silver, and some gems.  The lode was profitable so they kept going and going, creating a mass of tunnels, living quarters, halls and other things that are relevant to sustaining life. Families were made and children born, all in this city of rock. The mines had branched into the nearby mountains, Cloudyhead and the Redhorn who themselves had nicknames and other descriptions.  Moria at the end was so massive that it was said to be the intertwined in the roots of all three mountains.

 Beorn grabbed his arm, holding him still for moment then nodded to the right. Turning his head, Fili saw the group who had been at the Mirror Lake driving slowly to disappear behind a wall.  Right into the rock face.  There had to be a cave or underground cellar because time passed and no one came back out. If that were true, if there was a base _in_ the Silvertine, they could have set up the mountain like an anthill.

“Oh shit.” Fili snorted quietly.

Tauriel inched to a thick tree, pulling a small scope to get a better idea of what was around them. She rose up to her knee, sweeping the area in minute degrees.  This was very unexpected. Fili had thought there would be huts or something, camouflaged in the wilderness. But finding Smaug might have moved _into_ the mountain like his namesake was very unnerving.  His lair could be inside or deep underground depending upon how long he had been at work.  It was an excellent idea, really. Easily defensive, only a few marked locations in or out of the rock. 

“Open ground… yards at least.” Nori whispered from Fili’s left, inching his way by with Medved’s legs between them. “Getting tight on time.”

“No approach from here.”  Beorn rumbling before them as he inched closer himself. 

Looking around, he could tell that the forest was thicker there, using different types of tall trees and indigenous shrubs as a natural “fence” between here and Dimrill Dale. Hikers might not even try to venture this far if the woodland looked too dense. However, all that was left in the meadow before the rock looked to be fruit bearing trees, nothing big enough to hide bodies trying to move through the vegetation at their bases. This area was cleaner, the landscape purposeful. Bushes, azaleas mixed with holly, dotted the grounds. Shaved down to sculpted rounds that looked completely unnatural, they would be beautiful in the spring. It was obvious that Drake wanted his front yard to look nice even if he killed anyone who saw it.

Tamping down his adrenaline was harder than usual. Fili desperately wanted to get going but they had nowhere to go at the moment. Tucking the axe ahead of him, he could feel the frosted grass melting due to his body heat to soak the front of his pullover. Lowering his head, he sighed into the dirt as he wiggled his thighs to work out the itch drumming in his legs from the rush in his veins. And the wait… There was no way the lot of them wouldn’t be spotted if they tried a run into that cave where the ATVs went. 

Tauriel twisted around in front, rolling to her side with a breaker of a holly bushes behind her. Elbowing her way to them, Fili hoped that the smile on her face was good news. “Goats.”  She whispered as she pointed to their left. “There is a pasture that way. We can use them as cover to make it inside.”

“Where’s the house…” Bofur started to argue but one of the Russian’s muzzled him to keep his quiet.  Tauriel was on her feet and moving, ignoring them all.

Someone needs to tell her that’s rude, Fili grumbled to himself. She moved stealthily, confidently.  Either, she thought that there wasn’t much of a chance of sensors here or she knew where they were.  Tracing her pattern, the others took a different route closer to the trees as they circled the stone edifice. The spiny thicket of an azalea poked at his ear when he crept too close.  Fili caught up to Tauriel as a straight line of sculptured verge came into view.

“How come there isn’t anyone around?”  He whispered.

“I am guessing that their heaviest concentration of optics and grids are placed further out. No one is supposed to know he’s here so there wouldn’t be any cameras or at least noticeable ones near the lake. I bet there are at least two on that entrance the Orcs used. I found a pressure pad earlier before we reached the lake and stepped on it to draw them out.” She stopped to look around the meadow at the rock base then checked on the others. “There are probably supposed to be patrols like what we saw, but you heard them.  It’s cold and they don’t want to be out here. Smaug isn’t home so they’re lazy. Perfect!”

The jut of the Silvertine was coming closer as the treeline swerved to meet it. A row of hedges grew at about four feet tall, allowing them to get to their feet and off their hands and knees. Tauriel wormed her way to the corner, bending her body to scoot along the side. She was better at this than anyone had given her credit, Thorin especially. So far, her predictions hadn’t been wrong, taking the fight to their enemy in short order.  It was a blessing that the redhead had fell in the love with his brother rather than invading Erebor like this. 

Fili hadn’t checked the time; it had no meaning at the moment as they each hugged the hedge to the where Smaug had these goats.  He wasn’t sure how long they had until dawn came, rolling up the night again. Thinking like that would get him killed. The Russians weren’t hasty, acting like they were on some kind of safari rather than a dangerous mission to save a little boy.  One of them was even grinning over something. Beorn punched Smiley’s arm to get him moving, tucking his long sword into his pit. It was comical to see the Bear trying to minimize himself to where he wouldn’t be seen from the other side.  Fili huffed into a smile of his own, glad for once in his life that his shorter stature was a virtue.

They reached the goat herd, sheltering amongst the treeline. One of the Russians accidently touched the electric tape, jerking in response to the charge. The pasture wasn’t more than a containment, keeping the animals against the verge and forest for the night.  He thought for a moment that the Red Dragon had started some kind of mutant breeds since some were so much taller than the others.  Closer examination exposed them to be not just goats in the pile but also sheep and three ponies.  Cursing slightly at the equine’s prey instinct, Fili watched helplessly as the fat short horses stumbled to their feet quickly.  The disturbance of their quick reaction made a few goats fall into a faint and the sheep to get vocal about the intruders. 

A Russian ran low to the ground to the front of the flexible boundary.  He found the power supply, a battery with a socket for the pronged plug to get the current to make the wired tape hot.  When it was off, he signaled down the line to the group. Tauriel tugged the line apart at the side then backed away to let them escape.  Fili and Nori grabbed two of the ponies who stumbled by, using their bulk to hide them as well as corral the sheep and goats from running. Tauriel did the same at the other side, trying to keep the palomino close to her.  The little brown mare snorted at him when he twined his fingers into the mane nearest her head. Hunched over, they walked the ponies at the pace with the sheep and goats to keep them bunched around the others. 

The Silvertine looked grey in the blackness, looming taller than his memory.  The pony had a destination in mind, her stride picking up as they neared the granite. The path she was taking would head into the area the Orcs disappeared into their underground cave. Looking behind him at Nori and his pony, he was having the same trouble.  The sheep had enough of playing nice suddenly ran to the left exposing the Medved and his men to view.  They were so close to the rock, the four men sprinted forward along with Bofur and Nori.  Fili let go at the last second to join them with Tauriel letting of her pony.

When she drew abreast, she pointed opposite the way of the trotting equines.  “I think I see a light up ahead.”

Three heads leaned out from their position, trying to spot she was talking about, only to be snatched back. The redhead just shrugged before setting off again.  It was starting to feel like a three stooges act than a rescue. Beorn followed close on her heels, leaving the remainders to get Durin’s folk moving. They fell in, trying to keep up with the others.  However, Bofur ran into the Big Bear before he realized it, almost falling on his ass.  Fili wake around the squabbling pair to look at what Tauriel was seeing.  With his breath misting before him, he stood close to her as she watched the high wall that rose up into a dark sky.

“Look there!”

Gazing along the line she indicated, there was a faint light about two stories up. It was oddly geometric and hazy, even at the distance.  It curved out from the sheer stone now that he could make out the height difference.

“He cut a window out of the rock?” Nori chortled from behind them. “He goes to the trouble to hide out in the mountains, then puts a big sign out saying ‘Hi there, Welcome to the Drakes’.”

Tauriel looked grim. Lines formed upon her pale brow to squelch up the hat. “I bet the glass is tinted to reduce the light. He might have the window there because there was already a hole or exposed cavern.  It would take a canon to blast into that mountain to get him out.” She pulled a length of rope from her bag. “Nori, put two of your charges on the rock about ten feet left.  I put two at intervals already.  Beorn, I’m going to try to scale it. Keep an eye out for patrols.”

The Bear grumbled some but sent one of his men with Nori as they slunk away.  There was a slope to the wall, not a complete vertical assent.  She took a stride to leap upon a granite knee, giving all of them a idea of where to place their feet when they made their own climb. Torn between wanting to watch and also watching the perimeter, Fili moved some distance away to try and do both.  He felt only moments had passed when he heard the breaking of glass and the jaundiced glow became brighter.  Looking up once more, he just caught sight of her leg disappearing into the room. She leaned out, pushing a ruined pane and it’s intact mate out for entry.

Beorn hadn’t waited for her, climbing over halfway to her without the aid of the rope.  The big man knew his stuff, finding handholds in the dark then being able to pull his massive bulk to the next level.  The rope sailed by him, not long enough to make it all the way to the ground. One of the Russians grabbed it once he got about four feet from the ground, using it as an anchor to walk up the wall.  He and Beorn made it to the window about the same time.  Wanting to make sure everyone got in, Fili used Bofur next with another of the Russians scaling beside him. 

Nori trotted back, looking up at the ascenders. “A rope? How cute…I haven’t needed a rope since I was a teenager.”

“Well, you are a great second story man. Get going, you might beat Bofur.”

“What kind of prize do I get if I do?”  The retired thief asked as he gave the rope an experimental tug.

“Any loot you take tonight is yours to keep so long as it doesn’t jeopardize us.” Fili told him with a grin.

“Ahhh bossman, you wouldn’t have seen my take anyway. But having free rein is nice for once.”  Nori chortled again as he hopped nimbly at a good pace onto the rock face.

It was hard not to like Nori, quirks and all. Fili and Kili along with a few others had tried to be there for him when Nori was in prison, sending him things, trying to visit. The stuff he had allowed, but not the visits.  Nori told them after that he could do the time just fine, but not if he had to dwell on all the stuff he was missing. Dori blamed himself for a lot of it, thinking that he had failed his brother.  It was a hard thing for the older MacDurin to get beyond some days.

“He won.” The last Russian gurgled behind him as Fili looked around one last time.

Looking up again, Fili could tell that Bofur was at last trying to get into the window and Nori was nowhere to be seen.  The little bastard was still as quick now as he was when he was robbing people blind for a living.  Chuckling, he looked to the Russian who was already two handholds into his climb.  Seriously? Fili thought as he began his own ascent, are all of them trying to be monkeys tonight?  He wasn’t as fast as Nori or as slow as Bofur.  He and the Beorn’s man reached the portal about the same time with Fili letting him in first.  The wind was kicking up, whipping off the rock in mini cyclones. 

Wiggling his way inside as quickly and as quietly as possible, Beorn reached back to grab Fili’s belt to pull him through at the last.  Dumping him unceremoniously upon a rich carpet, he heard one of the Russians whistle in appreciation.

But it was Nori who was the first to speak. “This shit keeps getting better and better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I am finally back into this fic after being off it for over a year.. updates will come regularly now that my big project is finished. This chapter was slightly dry because I took all the fun stuff out because yes, they were sneaking about the forest and trying to be quiet.. but now that they are in Smaug's place, the snark is coming back..
> 
> Thank you all for reading; comments are welcome so don't be shy


	17. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4:10 am February 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings..Torture, BOLG’s sick shit, Tauriel whipping ass and taking names,.  
> You’ve been warned..

 

“Think the guy likes red and gold?... This place is decorated like a Victorian whorehouse.” Nori picked up a heavy cut glass ashtray on a side table before the fire.

The others milled around the room, taking it all in.  Somehow, this had to be Smaug’s study. _In the frigging mountain!_ There was hand carved paneling that ran along the bottom of the walls that vaulted into a plastered ceiling.  But Nori was correct.  Everything was gold or red or a combination of the two. Thick stuff leather chairs that looked custom made for a big man.  Maybe for someone was taller than the average? High above them, a glass chandelier cast a muted ambiance. Designed to look like flames of red, different shades of orange and yellow, it looked like a poisoned spider’s egg sack suspended from the ceiling.

“No tassles...whorehouses have tassles.” Beorn disagreed from the other side as he examined the scenes of the paneling.

Tauriel was at the desk, trying to get into the desk for any stray files that might yield up some information.  Fili saw her pursed lips twitch at the absurdity of the conversation. One of the Russians was working on the locked door with another for backup. Bofur was with Nori, looking over the room that was furnished in luxurious tones.

“You watch too many westerns ...” Bofur put in as he pulled the stopper on a decanter of shimmering amber liquid. 

Beorn squatted to look into the fireplace and examine the ash with a knife. Finding nothing of value, he straightened. “Vice is same no matter time period.”

Fili just took it all in without the need to pilfer as the others might. “I don’t know what I expected of Smaug’s lair.  Not this, though.” Looking at Tauriel for a moment, he continued. “This place is huge, and most likely a warren of tunnels.  We are going to need help to find the boy.”

“We need hostage.” The big Russian picked up a jeweled letter opener from the mantle.  It looked like it could have been used to stab someone in a dark alley a thousand years ago. “Someone who knows where child is. Who understands that his life is forfeit?”

So bloodthirsty, Fili thought as he walked to the Russians at the door. “Time’s awastin’.”

The others agreed as Tauriel wrapped up her snooping.  She did grab the netbook and external drive to put into her sling bag.  Ori could take a crack at it later, hopefully finding something of value.  Anything to give them an edge against this monster would be helpful down the road.  They filed out of the study and into the hall, only to stop short at the sight. Stretching out as far as the eye could see at first glance, the industrial lighting cut into the darkness until hitting the back wall about one hundred feet away.

Oval in shape, the ceiling was close to twenty feet high, lined with ancient brick.  This part of the mountain had to be one of the original tunnels that was still intact.  Fili and Nori both walked to the side to examine the work.  Looking overhead, steel girders braced one side to the other, the metal the same raw gray that Erebor’s would be.  The bricks at the top of the corridor had fresh cement especially around the metal supports. Either, there had been a cave in or Smaug engineered the new additions down the hall when he set up shop.  At any case, the effort that it took to do the work at least in this portion, bespoke of the Dragon’s commitment for the long haul.  Mount Gundabad and Dol Guldor were just a way of anchoring himself further into the area.

“I wonder where the electricity is coming from.”  Bofur asked as he walked forward.

“Solar panels.”  Tauriel told them as she walked forward. “Eight years ago, Drake was linked to a hijacking of a shipment out in Arizona.  The rig was recovered in Texas but the panels were gone.  He could set them up at the mountains’ peaks and generate his own electric. From far away, it would look like sunlight off the snow rather than off metal.”

“Too much moisture here for the conduits. It would corrode the generators without dehumidifiers running 24/7.”  Fili fell in step with her as they neared the end to find a staircase on either side of the hall. “We looked into trying it at the mine but it wasn’t cost effective.”

“Isn’t about cost.” Beorn rumbled behind them. “But need.  He will not pay if he can steal. Might be wired into transmission lines for backup. Which way?”

“Nori, leave one of your charges.  We go up. Smaug’s living quarters will be as far from the entrance as possible.” Tauriel took the stairs two at a time, hopping in each leap with boundless energy. 

Her shoes were quieter than the group’s, making the rest slow down on the metal steps. Fili looked over the side as they climbed, guessing that they had at least two more levels until the stairs reached the end.  There wasn’t a central staircase; the ascent was broken up into intervals. The other set on the opposite side of the hall from Smaug’s study probably went to garage or to an intermediary corridor.  Just another way to hinder opposition if enemy forces managed to breach the Silvertine. The Dragon hadnt’ exactly rolled out the red carpet.

Tauriel had made it to the landing on the next floor, pulling her bow and a regular arrow.  She edged to the hall with Beorn at her back, his large sword at the ready.  Straining to hear, Fili recognized low pitched voices at the other end but the sound faded to nothing.  The walls themselves at this level were more functional, lined with rippling tin and metal girders.  Not as aesthetically pleasing as the hall to Smaug’s study, it was a work in progress.  The group crept down the passage until two different entrances dimpled the walls midway the aisle.  The doors were standard, non-descript, heavy metal with metal door knobs.

“Shit!”  Bofur squeaked, hopping a foot in the air. He fell against the metal sided wall, the clang echoing down the route.

The Russian who stepped on the back of his heel, patted Bofur on the hat. It would have been comforting rather than condescending if the man hadn’t been so much taller.

“Bofur!” Tauriel hissed from up ahead, turning back to glare at them with frustration that comes from fractured attention.

“Steady there.” Fili whispered to his friend, his floppy hat quivering with bunny shakes.

“I'm standing in a slaughterhouse where the cattle are begging to become hamburgers. I have a right to be jumpy.”

Nori was suppressing his laughter or trying too when the doors opened behind him.  Three men walked out of the room talking loud and wearing all black with red jackets. The trio almost collided with the MacDurin who immediately jumped back out of the way.  For a moment, the Orcs stood stunned, never expecting to see eight people of unknown origins standing before them.  Like anything in life, it seems wisest to assume the worst from the beginning...and let anything better come as a surprise.

One of the men started to yell but a black arrow bloomed from his throat to cut off his shout. The pitiful gurgling of a dying man replaced his failed attempt.  The others jumped forward swinging short swords and maces. Thick shouldered and taller, the Orcs made for the Russians as more of their comrades streamed from the doorway of a lounge. An impressive fighting force, their enemy came at them with astonishing vigor. The clang of metal weapons falling upon metal echoed in the hall, louder than what Fili expected.

A younger Orc than what he expected, swung a spiked cudgel at his mid-section. Fili hopped backwards out of the way but plowed into another Orc fighting hand to hand with Bofur.  Stumbling, he sidestepped out of the way to fall into the metal sided wall. The lad came at him again, thinking to catch him wrong footed.  The Orc feinted to the right then cut in the opposite direction, slicing with devastating power.

For a moment Fili stood still, the thick sharp edge of his weapon held downward, then his whole body moved at once swinging the axe to deliver a vicious overhead blow. The Orc slithered away, catching the back of the axe’s head to ram the blade into the floor.  It opened his body, giving Fili the chance to strike at his face with his fist. The Orc was good, Fili hated to admit, but he didn’t have the experience yet. His attacker moved his feet very little, bracing himself against the Fili’s counterblows and adding momentum when he wanted to sink all of the weight of his big body into the hit. His attacks came in a controlled, precise cascade, telegraphed in the bunching of his shoulders.

The axe and mace drummed, clashing.  Fili and his assailant rampaged into the room, beating on each other. The others followed with their own goons, until there was cross fighting with the match ups changing. Concentrating on the young Orc, he watched for that moment.  Fili almost missed the slip of the arm, a guard dropped. The blond lunged into the opening. The thug swung his mace as if it were light like a toothpick and parried his strike, bashing him to the right. Fili countered, driving his left fist into exposed throat. His opponent spun away from him, choking, but still striking back.  The Orc ducked under his swing and rammed the ball of his weapon’s handle into Fili’s arm pit.

The Orc continued to dance around him, battering his ribs.  Fili knocked the mace aside with his left arm and kicked him. The Orc stumbled about a foot back then rolled into the wall. As he staggered to his feet, Tauriel was there, grabbing an arm to tug him forward and stab him in the neck with her knife. The bloody arterial spray watered the wall like a sprinkler.  She wasn’t even breathing hard.

Fili wanted to bend over and get his breath but the redhead stopped him in short order. “Stop playing with them, Fili. We don’t have all night!”  

“I swear, woman, you could drive a man to drink!” He didn’t think she heard him, bouncing back into the fray.

The Russians made short work of most, while Tauriel cut down two at once. Over achiever, Fili thought as he straightened. Suddenly, he felt a ripple surge at the side of his vision, a current of air behind him. Before he had a chance to turn, pain exploded in the back of his skull. Something hard slammed into Fili from behind, knocking him face-first into the floor. Air exploded from his lungs, and he licked the rug. Stars winked through his vision. He tried to crawl forward, but a heavy weight pinned him down. Fear threatened to overtake reason, but he quickly rallied, twisting around and swinging out a fist.

Pain cut through Fili's knuckles. Maybe breaking one. He hit the guy in the jaw—a solid, intractable jaw. He and the Orc rolled together, one on top of the other. Ears ringing, he shook himself, shoving away the pain as he pushed back up from the body beneath him. The man on the floor shot a fist at his face, hitting in the ear which just made the pounding worse.  Taking the power of the swing to break free, Fili rolled off the Orc to gain his feet in an unsteady balance. 

The Orc stumbled to his feet and raised a knife in his left hand, slicing the air in loops as he tried to stagger clear. Fili pulled a Francesca until he get his axe back that lay behind the goon against the wall.  He lunged with the blade down, either not realizing or too disoriented. It was rookie move, and a stupid one.  Blood poured from a gash in the Orc’s temple, a souvenir from someone else. Fili twisted at his attack, grabbing an arm to pull the man into the Francesca’s blade.  It stuck into his sternum, but Fili punched it deeper once then pulled it free.  Death wasn’t glorious for him, just a series of bloody bubbles from the thug’s open mouth.  Picking up his axe, Fili took stock for his next kill.

The Beornlings slowed down, taking position in the door as a protective wall. The rest of the fighters were dwindling down to a few as Tauriel cut a swath across the room. Bofur threw one off balance, bringing his mattock hard at the Orc's chin. Nori swung a lamp from a nearby table like he was serving at Wimbledon to the back of the head in front of him, knocking the man forward a step. The Orc could have recovered, but Nori kicked him in the center of his back, sending him flying onto his stomach. Then Bofur stomped over the fallen body with steel toed boots and continued onward.

That was fighting, Durinson style. 

Fili threw the Francisca axe at the Orc who was sneaking up on Nori’s blind side.  Once it connected, he moved left just in time to avoid a sword thrust from his rear as the blade shot a foot in front of him by his side.  It would have skewered Fili like a pig on a spit.  It was a near miss, way closer than he wanted. Spinning left into a turn, his axe blade found the enemy’s neck in a sickening crunch as it dung into the spine. To be humane, Fili put his weight into the handle to finish chopping off the head.

The sounds of the battle decreased when Bofur disemboweled his opponent by ripping two foot long knives out the Orc’s belly.  The intestines spilled from the wound like they had been packed in too long and could finally make a rush to freedom. Bodies and limbs littered the floor already slick with blood.  Overturned chairs and tables clutter the small break room even further as Fili looked on the last two of Smaug’s men still alive.

 The pair of Orcs in red uniforms were left but they weren’t as seasoned as the rest of the group here. One looked like he was three seconds from pissing himself.  The pair huddled into a corner, slashing two handed sabers at the Beornlings that snickered and grew near.  The Bear’s men they were called though tonight they acted like wolves, toying with their prey.

Tauriel strode forward, pushing a Russian out of her way.  Her actions focused the inexperienced Orcs on her while the Beornling knocked away one the sword of the one on the right.  Before his mate on the left could counter the loss of his buddy’s sword, Tauriel twisted the knife in her left hand to slice open the man’s wrist. Kicking him in the gut, the Orc screamed, immediately dropping the weapon since she had cut his tendons too. Grabbing him by the back of his head, Tauriel slammed her foot into the side of knee then pushed him onto a long table near a wall.  Salt shakers, magazines and other clutter flew off the table as the Russians flipped him over to spread eagle him. 

“Pull him close.” Tauriel told him as she walked to the head of the table and began yanking the Orc’s shirt and coat away from his pants to expose his chest and pudgy belly.

The ripping sounds were not as a bad as the expression on her face.  It was blank, no emotion except cold precision. Pushing away the coat and shirt, she exposed the man’s lower fish belly white skin.  Tauriel flipped open a small blade then stabbed the Orc through the pasty fat around the edges of his hips until the metal made a thunked noise. Pinned to the table beneath, he struggled and cried, trying desperately to get free.  She walked back around the side to look down on him, pulling a second knife in the process.

“Oh, I think I like where her mind is.” Beorn stepped beside Fili with a grin. I don’t, Fili thought as he watched her.

She turned the Orc’s head one way then the other looking at his neck before tracing the dark veins under the skin with the sharp point. Whether or not torture had been part of her morning routine at Mirkwood, Fili couldn’t say but watching her work chilled him. “Where is the boy?”

The Orc on the table jumped at her question. “I don’t know.”

Ripping pieces of the coat’s red material, she stuffed the ragged fabric in the man’s mouth before tying it closed.  Tauriel began digging the tip of the blade into the hollows of the man’s clavicles, letting the blood run a minute before moving to the next spot. The bound man moaned and screamed when she hit nerves, forcing pain into the lines of his body.  The other Orc was held between a Russian and Bofur, each gripping his arms as the body sagged under the weight of his fear. The Orc whimpered like a kicked puppy.

Untying the spread eagled man’s mouth, Tauriel asked. “Well? I don’t have all night.”

Coughing slightly, the man’s eyes were wide with terror. “Kill me now please! Because if you don’t, the Red Dragon will!”

“We don’t train to be merciful here in Rhovanion, we adapt or we die. That little boy isn’t a killer yet, but Frodo could be the longer he is in Smaug’s hands.  Would you want that kind of fear pushed on an unsuspecting child?” Shaking her head, Tauriel began to stuff the material back into the man’s mouth to stop his pleas.

There wasn’t time for this; surprise was still on their side but there was no clear idea on how big the warren was or where Frodo was being kept.  Fili understood they would never have another chance at this place once they left it.  If Smaug was smart, he would abandon it and go to ground in another location.  Tauriel had been ahead of them, looking at possibles further north and the likelihood of Smaug utilizing them.

“Wait please!”  The Orc that Bofur and the Russian held. “I want to help! I just want to leave.”

Tauriel removed the knife from the man on the table. The blood dripped along the edge when she pointed it at the other man. “Talk to me.”

“The boy’s room is near the tower on the same wing as Smaug’s suite, two levels up.  The Red Dragon wanted him at hand in case of an attack.  You can use the stairs in Smaug’s bedroom to the garage below.  The entrance is located in the walk in closet.”  The smell of urine was getting stronger as the poor guy continued to pee himself. 

Fili looked at Tauriel as she watched their enemy try to control his waste.  The man on the table thrashed still, yelling though his mouth was covered.  The redhead looked the Russian and shrugged.  She walked back to the shaking fiend on the table, smiled at him, then shoved her dagger up through his chin until it met his brain.  The body seized for a moment, every arm and leg stiffed uncontrollably. Life struggled to hang on, but in the end, it was for naught.  Finally, the body relaxed in death, another Orc dead at her hand.

“But! No!  I thought you wouldn’t kill us! I told you everything I know! You could let me go!”  The Orc writhed against his captors, wanting to live to see the sunrise.

Tauriel yanked the blade free with a sucking gurgle of noise to let the blood seep from the wound. “I never agreed to your living.”

The blood dripped down the blade as she advanced to the cowering Orc, frightened out of his mind.  Fili didn’t think, he just grabbed her as she walked past.  Wrapping her tight in his arms, he motioned for Bofur to take the man away. Tauriel shoved a foot into the top of his, following it up with a bony elbow to the sternum, heaving him back a foot.

“What are you doing!?” She hissed in his face. “He is our enemy.”

“He is a young idiot. Bofur will tie him up, so that he can get free later before Smaug returns.” Fili spoke low. “Mercy doesn’t make you weak.”

“How much mercy did they give to Radagast? Thrain or Frerin?  What will they do to Kili if they get him? The rules of engagement stopped applying here when people we love started dying. So we toss out the rulebook because nobody else is using it anyway!”  Raw anger and hotter frustration laced every word that poured from her.  Yanking away from him, she marched out the door.

“Your brother is her love.”  The Russian looked at him before he followed with a disgruntled look. “Her mother was same. All or nothing.”

There was no time to digest what he meant, not with the ‘red hairs’ killing her way up the hall. The others quickly followed, Beorn supporting her right flank with as two Russians cutting down the strays from the side passages.  Up they climbed, the stairs dripped red with blood as she stabbed the artery of a Spider who moved right when he should have just run away. 

This bunker was basic once Fili understood the fundamentals.  The top level was the same corrugated tin all the way around, with a center strip of shop lighting. Six different doors lined the walls in hardwoods rather than utilitarian metal.  A man was screaming on the radio as they ran down the top floor towards him.  Tauriel struck with her sword as the man tried to parry but he only just cheesed her off more.  A blow from the hilt distracted him while she circled closer to stab up into the body cavity with a tactical knife, right to the heart.  Someone shouted and one of the Russians nearest Tauriel jerked as an Orc materialized out of one of the rooms.

Beorn swung his sword, catching the Orc on the thigh while the injured Russian sliced his throat.  Tauriel looked wildly around the hall at the doors before finally grunting a ‘fuck it’ and kicking the closest one in.  Confident where they were, everyone blasted their way into a room.  It was Beorn who found the boy, cowering under the bed.

“I have him.”  Medvid said as he appeared into the hall to tell the others. A boy, dark haired and frightened, clung to the Bear’s neck. “We waste time.”

“Got his digs down here.” Nori called a short distance away from an open door. There was shouting in the stairwell at the end with more Orcs running to meet them.

The group converged on the room as Nori had already snatched open the closet. A Russian and Bofur barricaded the suite door just in time for it to take a relentless pounding. Their resident sneak thief darted by for another closet door, knocking on walls for a hollow sound.  If anyone noticed that his pockets looked heavy, they didn’t comment.  Rows of suits faced a long cabinet of swords and knives.  Most had a medieval cast, gleaming with gems and scrolls hilts, others were functional and well used. Clothes were thrown as everyone tore into the walls looking for the secret passage.  Fili began to worry that the man had lied until a Beornling tugged a panel away to reveal a gaping hole. Flipping on the lights, the spiral stairs corkscrewed unbrokenly.

“Down we go.” Bofur gave a jolly grin and began to run down the stairs.  With the hall blocked with the enemy, there was no choice but to take the passage and hope for the best.

It wasn’t a very wide area but built for a man of Smaug’s large dimensions.  Medved had to slouch a little as he ambled at a quick clip, trying not to fall with the still clinging Frodo.  The boy had not made a sound so far, his large eyes taking everything in. There were two landings of a sort that had a door to somewhere. More secret passages with secret passages. Fili didn’t for one minute believe that this was the only one in the whole mountain.  Fili noticed a disc at each as they ran.  Nori and Tauriel were leaving as many as possible.  By blowing up the center, the mountain might collapse.

The bottom of the endless stairs had a small landing and a door that looked reinforced. From here, a loud klaxon horn could be heard in the space.  Someone had tripped the alarm, probably bringing reinforcements and Smaug.  Flipping the lock, Bofur and Nori gave it a push then a heave to get the door moving.  A large cabinet on a swivel rolled out of their way to reveal an open garage with vehicles parked to the side. Rangers, ATVs as well as four wheel drive trucks lined the walls.  The open space wasn’t crowded but very organized with tools on metal racks behind the trucks.

“Bofur check to see if the keys are in them.”  Fili turned to try and help but Medved cut him off.

“No take the trucks.  Might have bombs inside. They can blow them at any point.”  Looking around for another mode of transport, Medved stilled as Frodo leaned to whisper in his ear. “Really, boy? He says there is armory; guns and ammunition through that door.”

Fili looked to where Beorn and Frodo pointed to a heavy metal doors at the end of the garage. Highly illegal in this area, Smaug would have had to transport the guns and ammo outside the regular highways. The Russian who took the hit earlier was in bad shape, listing against the wall.  The other two Beornlings took an arm, leading him to a Ranger as Nori turned it over.  Tauriel put the last two charges on the outside of the metal doors then ran back to them. 

“Where are the guards?  We didn’t kill that many.”  Fili asked as he climbed into a Ranger ATV with one of the Beornlings and Nori behind the wheel.

“Probably upstairs looking for us.  I don’t care! We need to clear the structure so I blow the charges.” Tauriel climbed in the back of the Ranger that held Bofur, Beorn and Frodo. She unslung her bow and bag to have a good draw on her the quiver.

The three vehicles careened out of the mountain, pushing for top speed once they cleared the rock.  Nori drove like a maniac, swerving to the right as Bofur pulled left.  The release of Tauriel’s bow was muffled by the loud screeching engines as the drivers milked them to go faster. The loud ‘Boom’ of explosions washed the rapidly approaching forest in shades of white, yellow and red.  Screams rent the night when she released the explosives, a loud rumble of sliding rock. Fili looked back to see the Silvertine Mountain crumble into dust as Tauriel continued to fire the explosive arrows at the avalanche of rock until they were out of range.

“Don’t slow down!”  She yelled, kneeing down in the back of the ATV.  “We have to get as much distance as possible!”

The ear spitting detonations continued as they sped into the forest, the fire reaching the ammunition stores that Frodo had indicated.  Fili could just make out the red of the kid’s pajamas covered up in the Bear’s arms. The three vehicles closed ranks, one following the other in a line.  The trees whipped by as the ATV’s speed approached thirty, the wind blurring his vision.  Tauriel continued to watch their retreat though she crouched a little further down as not to be hit in the back of the head by a low limb. 

The headlights of the first Rangers swept the lake side, sliding into a drifted angle.  The Russian slammed on the brakes to slow the momentum, the vehicle almost tipping on its side.  The others cut away, slowing to hit the forest’s density. The head lamps reflect of silvery trunks and crystal leaves, looking for a good path to the trucks.  In the distance, the fire from the mountain lit up the night sky with flames that would be seen for a few miles at least. 

There was not trail only the sight and feel of the terrain.  The lurch of the ATVs wasn’t enough to give him whiplash but it wasn’t unlike the severe rocking of a boat in a storm.  Tauriel shouted to Bofur, banging on the seat to get his attention.  He stopped as commanded, nosediving the front of the Ranger.  The female stood up and fired an arrow behind them, the explosion not as compact as the others.  Looking behind, two motorcycles shot out of the growth into a white cloud made by Tauriel’s arrow.  Even at the distance, he could hear the Orcs’ screams of pain and horror.

Bofur gunned the vehicle again, rocking them forward in a hurry.  There would be more and it would get ugly. The Ranger with Bofur at the wheel sailed into the marked point with the contingent that Medved has left behind with the long bed truck.  Nobody slowed down, only screamed at the others to follow them.  Now that they were on a road of sorts, the drivers opened up the ATVs to a faster pace.  They skidded into a few turns driving faster on the straight runs. 

The Beornlings made the clearing with the trucks first, screaming to the others to help them. The injured Russian was dragged from the ATV by two others as everyone abandoned the Rangers in a hurry to get going.  The long bed truck pulled to a stop with others pilling over the sides.  The frantic nature wasn’t lost on him, the feeling of the enemy breathing down their necks.

“Fili!” Tauriel shouted as she ran for the Hummer. “You and Nori take the truck back to Erebor. Bofur, you come with me.”

“That wasn’t the plan!” Fili yelled as he tried to catch up with her as she climbed into the passenger side. Beorn jumped into the back seat with Frodo in his arms with one of his men taking the wheel. “Bilbo wants Frodo with her..”

“We’re heading to Mirkwood!  I’ll see you after.” 

The hummer fishtailed out of the clearing with the Long bed truck right on its bumper.  Not wasting any time, Fili ran to the Ford with Nori right behind him.  Lights were bouncing in the forest, a sign of more of Smaug’s people trying to catch them or at least pin them down until the Dragon arrived. 

“Damn females.” He grumbled as Nori snickered.  The two of them tore out into the night, heading for home with the enemy hot on their heels.

**************************

Bolg had a merry feeling, turning on the small radio beside the toilet after he got out of the shower.  Ginnara lay on her bed still, though he had wrapped her up in a blanket.  He turned the heat down so the smell of blood wouldn’t thicken or help speed along the decomposition.  Drying off with a somewhat clean towel, Bolg pick up his phone on the counter as it jingled across the Formica. He smirked at the ID before he answered.

“Father.”

“Where are you?”  Azog’s voice crackled and spat from bad reception.  The tone grated on his son.

“Near Dale, typing up some loose ends before tomorrow morning.” Bolg wasn’t going there with the old man. He was having ‘me’ time.

“The Durinsons have it hit Drake’s house near Khazad Dum.  No intel yet on how many are dead but the Lair is crashed and the boy is gone.  Two teams from Mount Gundabad have been sent to intercept them at Woodland Highway before they reach Erebor.” Azog shot the words like a machine gun, rapid firing with no chance of a reload. “How soon can you make it there?”

They have the boy?  How the hell did they find Smaug’s hiding place? Bolg’s thoughts were in chaos.  It was a bold move to go after the Dragon directly.  There was only one amongst the Durinsons who had the balls to do all this. It was hilarious that she had none of her own.  If he wasn’t so set on having Sigrid for his bitch, he would think on taking a turn with the redheaded heavy hitter at the Lonely Mountain _.  If his father didn’t break Tauriel first._

“I’m about five minutes out, off Esgaroth road.”

“How many are with you?”  Azog sounded excited with the possibility of a trap in play.  His accent was getting heavier thanks to the enthusiasm. “They are in a black Ford pickup…”

“No one is with me. I’m alone.” He hadn’t bothered to tell his father what he was doing. The less ammunition the Defiler had, the better.

There was no faith between them, only mutual benefits.  Bolg didn’t trust his father to not try and claim Sigrid for his own just to piss off his son and remind him of his place.  Azog would enjoy nothing more than to torture Sigrid then kill her, thus denying his son. Bolg’s idea was to be on hand to one side before the battle started, then swoop in and snatch his sweet pet.  Now, there was a detour to that end with the Silvertine destroyed.

“I have a four man team coming from Dale where they were reeking general havoc tonight.  They will meet you at the train tracks.” The call disconnected as Bolg began grabbing his clothes and weapons.  Strapping his quiver to his back, he make sure he had all his toys before he left.

He took a bottle of Wild Turkey off the counter that Ginnara brought home tonight.  Bolg hadn’t drank any, wanting everything in working order for later. Taking a paper towel, he pulled the gas line away from the oven then quickly walked from the house.  The smell of rotten eggs hit him before he was out door, coating the back of his mouth.  Lighting the paper towel stuffed in the neck of the bottle, Bolg lobbed Molotov into the living room behind him as he walked toward his truck.

The explosion boomed in the world, lighting up the night sky with reds, oranges and natural gas fed blues.  There were no other immediate houses but emergency response would be there soon enough.  Cranking up his trunk, Bolg ground the heel of his hand down the erection straining his pants. The destruction he had caused tonight gave him a delicious shiver to pair with a watery tingle down his back.  He wasn’t sure if he could wait to get Sigrid back to Mount Gundabad, the idea of her warm body and wet pussy almost drove him wild.  If the opportunity presented itself, why not take her tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in the secret stair because that was actually a Durin’s Stair in the area around Moria. I was thinking of it also that Smaug would want a backdoor, a way to get out in a hurry. There was a hidden door into Erebor but since it’s a functioning mine rather than a living space.. It didn’t make real sense.


	18. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5:15 am February 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel's POV in the first part;  
> Bolg's POV in the 2nd part;
> 
> Minor character death.. I really apologize for posting that with the last chapter.

The big Hummer rolled past the scrolled iron gates into Mirkwood.  It wasn’t until she saw them swing back in place that Tauriel felt a measure of relief. The paved drive ribboned inky black against the dark green lawn. She could feel Beorn’s disapproval but this was her show and she would see it through.  Frodo wasn’t safe at Erebor, none of them were.  Thorin and Dwalin could stick their heads in the sand and present their asses to Smaug for a good reaming if they wished, but she wouldn’t.  Things had gone too far, much too fast for her to stop now.  It was win or die trying.

“Lass, are you sure of this?” Bofur sat behind her in the back seat beside Beorn and Frodo.  He wasn’t happy about being so close to the grumpy bear.

“This whole evening will be for nothing if Smaug crashes into Erebor to take him back and snag Bilbo. _And he is coming_. It’s just a waiting game of when. We should get the innocent out of the way as much as we can.” She blew an exhausted breath, the adrenaline crash was coming closer and closer with every exhale. Laying her head on the side window glass, Tauriel wished once more to be in Paris with Kili.  “Besides, we are going to need Thranduil before this ends.”   

Sadness was a companion of hers, damping her feelings to a moldy consistency.  The mood in the Hummer was just as stale.  The heat blasted from every vent. The rich tang of sweat, blood and destruction almost made her gag. The nausea gave her something to concentrate against, keeping the memories of what she had done behind a wall of impenetrable denial.  The Beornling who had been injured during their attack had lost a lot of blood and was critical according to the updates that Medved received. Many of their common enemy had died or been injured in the blast and falling rock. 

For Gods’ sake, she had brought down a mountain! Every bit of her pulled tight with shaking hands that rested on her knees at the consequences that were hers alone.  The hype was fading, leaving an oily residue that made her feel beyond dirty. But Tauriel couldn’t let herself feel the horror of her actions. Not yet. It wasn’t time to drop her guard and crumble. Later was soon enough, in Kili’s room where no one could see or hear.

The large SUV rolled to a stop at the outside door of the Vault, out away from the building. There were a few people in the general area. Tauriel didn’t breathe fully. Not even once she stepped out into the night.  She looked them over as she exited. She spotted Glanwen, her cousin and former co-worker, broke away from the group.  

The energetic girl practically vibrated with happiness and excitement.  Bundled up in a thick coat, she had not changed in the last three months.  Still sporting the spiky strawberry blond hair that looked sharp enough to spear a snowflake, her face split into a wide grin. She ran to Tauriel, enveloping her cousin in a crushing hug that left her gasping.

“I am so glad to see you!”  The perky strawberry blond laughed as her warm breath floated away on the cold breeze.

She had taken a chance calling her, putting her cousin into a mire of problems with her boss. However, Tauriel knew this was the one place that Frodo was beyond Smaug’s reach. It was at once hard too, knowing that in a few minutes she would be face to face with her father. The man who raised her, yet lied about so much, all of her life. There had been no communication since that awful day when Thranduil had shown up at Erebor. No phone calls, no emails.  There hadn’t been time to feel lost about it, not with Paris, Kili and her job filling up her days.  This place was a part of her, a huge part of her past. Something she hadn’t realized until they had driven passed the iron gates.

There was a new stone wall at edge of the parking lot, with concrete bumpers in front.  If the architect was smart there would be steel shafts cemented into the ground at the center of that new decoration, Tauriel thought as she looked around at the place that had been her home for most of her life. Ori had driven a big wrecker through the grounds to crash land just off the employee dorms. Strategic statuary had been place at regular intervals on the grounds, low to ground.  The new head of security had made some improvements. However, what they had changed for defense also gave possible cover to another burglar.  Maybe, one who wasn’t such a prankster as Bilbo.

“And I you.  But I have to get back to Erebor.  Where’s the boss?”  Tauriel wouldn’t consider using the F-word here.  It would just confirm the gossip to the open ears milling about in curiosity.

The strawberry blond had taken her call in their mad dash from Moria.  They hadn’t seen any traffic that raised any suspicions of pursuit, that didn’t mean that there wasn’t any.  Pushing Fili to run back to the Lonely Mountain as a diversion was risky.  Tauriel acknowledged grimly, she might have sent him to his doom.  It would take time for Smaug to work it out that Frodo and Tauriel weren’t with him. Hopefully, enough time to work out the logistics for the next move.

“Upstairs office.  Haldir Warden is with him.”  Glanwen rolled her eyes at the name but turned to run down the stairs to badge them in.

Beorn was behind her now as he shifted the shivering Frodo in his arms.  Tauriel felt horrible for not at least getting a blanket for the poor boy but time had been essential, now even more so. They had an advantage at the present with the momentum of victory on their side. But for how long? The tide could shift in a blink, a poorly executed plan would end any headway.

Glanwen’s eyes bulged at the sight of Beorn’s hulking size. It wasn’t in appreciation either. Her cousin’s tastes ran to slighter men. Medved was one of a kind, few enough men of his size in the county and were most probably his relatives. The great bear of man turned sideways to get into the hall outside the Vault, murmuring quietly to the child in his arms. 

Tauriel mounted the stairs at run if no other reason than to keep from being trampled by Beorn at her back.  The man was huge, taking the winding stair two steps to her one.  The boy, Frodo, made a slight protesting noise as he looked around the enclosed area.  Beorn began speaking low to the child again in his deep rumble to calm the boy and ally his fears.  The mad Russian had built a bridge with the child, connecting with him in a very short time. Either by his size or general demeanor, Frodo felt safe with the hulking man.

Tauriel made it to the double wood doors, staring at the design with spite curling her lip. The same old feeling of inadequacy bloomed in her stomach as she visually traced the wood. The last time she had been here was to answer for her relationship with Kili.  Thranduil’s stupidity had put him on a collision course with Erebor, costing him his daughter that he refused to acknowledge and a son that he couldn’t bear to love. Anger doused her second thoughts and worn out memories, fueling the powerful kick to those mighty doors. The power exuded cracked the wood around the ornate handles, forcing the doors backwards to bounce against the walls.  There was a lovely size 9 boot print embossed in the wood as it swung back to them.  Never let it be said that Tauriel Silvan didn’t know how to leave a mark!

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?!”  Thranduil snarled as Tauriel hurried into his office. He leapt to his feet along with Haldir as Beorn holding Frodo entered as well.

He hadn’t changed at all, Tauriel thought as she stared at the man who was her father, or sire as she sometimes mentally called him.  Still dressed in silvery white with long blond hair that looked too straight to be natural. The sharpness of Thranduil’s diamond gaze could cut glass. She felt it slice through her as he stood there staring at her with an empty expression on his coldly handsome face.

“I need you to take care of this little boy.  His name is Frodo.” The words rushed out of her faster than her heartbeat.

Thranduil Sindarin strode from behind his desk, advancing with that same rolling grace in his walk until he was side by side with Haldir. Rigidly straight to the point where he was almost brittle, the head of Mirkwood Forestry towered over the March Sentry. Everything was just as she had left it, the man and the room from where he tried to rule their world.  The adrenaline at seeing her father again jolted her system awake as she inclined her head with a smile to Haldir.

“Take care of him?  This isn’t a daycare or a hotel.  You don’t barge into a meeting to bring me some strange child and expect..” Thranduil was incensed, anger leaking from behind his mask of indifference.  Tauriel could see Frodo flinch in Beorn’s arms out of the corner of her eye.

“I _expect_ you to get up off your ass and help!” Tauriel cut in viciously. “You have a measure of responsibility in this mess.”

Haldir started to look uncomfortable as Tauriel stalked forward to get in harm’s way. She wasn’t afraid, not of Thranduil. Never again.  At three feet away, he could kill her easy. Whether or not he did, the ball was in his court.  Her fingers slide along the grips on her knife, catching his attention.  The Sindarin sized her up in a flash, knowing she wasn’t going to back down.

“I have nothing to do with it.  This is Erebor business that you have chosen for an individual crusade.” Her estranged father’s face wiped clean of any emotion as if this were beneath him to take a personal interest. 

“You missed one twenty years ago when you wiped out the Drakes.  Do you really think Smaug will let that go?”  She could feel the words trying to scream their way into the room but it would do no good.  Even looking at Haldir for assistance had done nothing but earned her frustration.

Haldir wouldn’t meet her gaze, his eyes flickering away.  He took a step back with his head down, not wanting to be in the middle of this particular argument. The whisper of his grey green coat was the only noise that came from him as he moved. The dark patch of the March Sentry stood in stark relief on the collar, a reminder that he belonged to Galadriel first and foremost. Beorn just smiled, trying not to laugh at the comical expression that Thranduil was wearing now. 

“The fortunes of the world will rise and fall. But here, in _this_ forest, we will endure.” Her father said with his patented shrug. He turned his back to walk away, taking his seat with sigh of irritation.

The Sindarin closed himself down, cutting off from the rest of the room. It was a particular talent he possessed that Tauriel had never mastered.  Thranduil acted like a sheet of glass stood between him and the rest of the room. They could see him but never touch, never come close to him.  She knew that dismissal, the cold unfeeling attitude.  It was a wonder she had not gotten frost bite in all the years living at the estate.

“You are a part of this world.” She said finally with disgust. “Who will you look too when we are all dead?”

There at the corner, a minor spasm flickered around his pale eyes. Then it was gone. If the thought of her dying of the others, unnerved him, why not fight?  Tauriel stared at him a moment longer, finally snarling at Thranduil’s continued silence.  Turning on her heel, Tauriel nodded her head at Beorn who shrugged as well. They had bought themselves some time, she thought as they both headed to the door to leave. Tauriel wouldn’t beg, not to Thranduil.  Others in this world would say it was pride but she knew that begging just earned contempt in this beige room.  She almost had her hand on the cracked door before a voice whipped out to stop her.

“Wait!”

Tauriel closed her eyes before looking back over her shoulder at the man who she knew was her father. Displeasure etched every corner of his face as he stood up once more. Thranduil ran a hand down his shirt front, then straightened his cufflinked sleeve. It was a stall, to gather himself, to make her wait for what she wanted. As head of Mirkwood Forestry, the Sindarin had never liked being pushed around, by her even less.  Kicking his ass verbally in front of others had not been smart, but there was nowhere else for Frodo to be as safe as he was in Mirkwood.

“He may stay in the employee dorms.  Glanwen will room with him on the second level so that there is an added level of security.”  He pushed a button on his phone. A voice Tauriel didn’t recognize answered. “Send Strider to me please.”

Tauriel sneaked a peek at the room, finding nothing had changed.  The same pale walls, the same furniture.  The whole lot of it was a frozen in time, a completed epitaph to the unchanging ideals of the man who occupied it.  She kept looking for something new, in this place and in the Thranduil and finding it all the same. 

Why had she thought it would be different? Tauriel drew a deep breath with the mental acceptance that it was herself that was different now.  The changes had begun when she met the love of her life, starting slow like a pebble that rolled into an avalanche.  The old saying of ‘you can’t go home again’ was true, and never more so than in this situation.  Mirkwood wasn’t home. Kili was.

“Who is this child to you?” Haldir asked as he looked to the boy cowering in the big man’s arms. Fear is a terrible thing to see on a child’s face.

Her ex-boyfriend looked perplexed, as if seeing her for the first time.  Tauriel couldn’t remember what it had been like to date him those handful of times, so many years ago. His first allegiance would always be to Galadriel, not to a woman in his life.  He was handsome now as he was then, nothing had changed in that regard.  Except _she_ had changed, and she didn’t want those rose colored glasses back thank you very much.

“He was a hostage of Smaug’s to ensure his Aunt’s cooperation.  Now his Aunt is working for us, Frodo’s life was in danger.”  Tauriel told her old friend softly. Frodo had proved resistant to most outbursts but he was still a child.

He was a pretty child, Frodo.  No doubt, Smaug would have trained him to be a beautiful killer like all the rest.  Bolg wasn’t handsome, maybe he could have been if he were anyone else’s child but Azog’s.  He was broad in the body, the kind that made a woman feel feminine when she stood next to him. Until she smelled the crazy that oozed from his pores. Dealing out so much death has a way of changing your appearance, making you harder than stone.

“You should have thought of that or the Aunt should have before she began working for Erebor. Since you learned a thing or two about creating messes rather than moping them up, I wonder why you were asked to retrieve him.”  Thranduil was being a royal shit from behind his place of power.  Tauriel was having none of it.

“What would any of us do for those we love?  What would you have done had my mother been held hostage instead of killed?”  It was a valid question to Thranduil though she was airing family laundry to do it. Men who have very set ideas on their world, it takes something drastic for them to understand those same ideas are more fragile than the finest glass.

Any response to her query was cut off by the new arrival.  A tall man, dark hair cut in a high and tight very recently.  His green patterned fatigues looked like what the foresters work but the shirt was longer almost like a tunic.  He was lean, this man, not a starved look but a honed feel like a well worked blade.  Tauriel couldn’t determine his age due the sun exposure but he was very familiar. Tauriel had seen him somewhere but unable to place it right away, hopefully it hadn’t been at Mount Gundabad.

The man nodded to the assembly paying particular attention to her but not in a way that was flirty.  He sized her up like a target, much the same way she had him.  Whoever he was, whatever his training, he would be hard takedown.  Tauriel mentally prayed he understood how to play nice with company.

“Tauriel Silvan. This is my security consultant, Estel Strider. Haldir Warden, you know.” Thranduil had a neutral tone as he spoke which told Tauriel he didn’t trust the new guy yet. “That is Beorn in the back, holding out newest resident. What did you say the halfling’s name is?”

Tauriel rounded on her ex-boss, her back bowing in anger. “What a horrible thing to call a child! His name is Frodo, use it!”

“Still barking orders?” The Sindarin shook his head at her as if in dismay.

It was getting harder and harder to hold herself back from throwing something at Thranduil.  Tauriel knew he was pushing her buttons or at least trying too.  If a person is out of control, they can be controlled eventually or just easier to beat.  That mantra had been pushed down her’s and Legolas’ throat so often that she could pick up the tactic from others at the drop of a hat.

“An annoying habit I picked up from my father.” Tauriel snarked in reply as Beorn snickered. She could push just as easily; she knew him as he knew her.

Tauriel turned just in time to see a subtle gesture between Beorn and the consultant Strider. It shook her for a moment only but she quickly recovered to pretend she had seen nothing. Did they know one another?  Tauriel made a mental note to ask Beorn back in the Humvee.  Bofur wouldn’t speak of what he heard, she doubted the Beorn’s guy was all that chatty either if he even spoke English.  So far tonight she had heard only Russian.

“As I was saying, Strider will be working for me for a while since you left so _abruptly_ and Legolas has relocated to the west coast. I must have some order on my estate.”  Thranduil rolled his eyes as if it was such a chore to manipulate people the way he did.

Tauriel pinched the bridge of her nose trying to stave off a headache that was starting to bang behind her eyes. It was stress induced she knew, because the pounding ache had stopped after she moved to Paris. “You left me no choice when you kidnapped my fiancé. There was no way I could stay here. And don’t go there about your son.  Legolas didn’t relocate because he wanted too, did he? “

“The Durin brat wasn’t your fiancé at the time. He was simply someone you were _fucking_. Really, I thought you would know the difference between love and just sex.”  Thranduil fired back in ruthless determination, ignoring her jab about his son and her brother. He would never admit what he did was wrong, to her or to Legolas.

Tauriel could see that Haldir wished he could be anywhere else but in this room at this moment. No doubt, the idea of an ex-girlfriend’s peccadillos getting aired would make anyone feel awkward.  It didn’t matter that their relationship hadn’t progressed beyond a few kisses stolen at the end of a night, Tauriel’s life now was none of his business.

“I don’t have time for this shit, I really don’t.” Tauriel’s patience was being to unravel like an old blanket. “If there had been anywhere else safer, I wouldn’t have knocked on your door. But here we are. You have agreed to harbor Frodo for which _I thank you_. But that also means you are responsible for his safety.  Under no circumstances does Smaug get his hands on the boy again.”

Thranduil nodded his assent, the formal language more binding in front of witness than any contract.  Tauriel seeing they were in accord, started towards Beorn as Frodo looked on with concern.  The knowledge and the things he had seen in the last two years could never be erased.  Had Smaug damaged him beyond repair or was there an unbreakable core in his depths?  Stronger than the Erebor steel, harder than the Arkenstone itself? Only time would say for sure, Tauriel wished for the latter.

Still in his red pajamas, Beorn put the boy down but took his hand in his great paw.  “You will be safe here, little one.  Or the Red Hairs will have a pretty scalp to give your Aunt.”  Beorn laughed at his own joke as Thranduil bristled.

“Frodo.” Tauriel knelt down on a knee before him. “Bilbo will call you later tonight.  Everything I have told you on the drive here is true.  You will be safe because Glanwen is my cousin. My family will protect you until you can go home to Shire County and live in peace.”

The boy’s wide blue eyes were solemn as he watched her.  His gaze held more weight than a child of so few years should have.  It wasn’t unnerving as any rational adult would find it, only sad.  He was too young to have been caught up in this mess.  His perusal lasted another five seconds before he nodded to show he understood. 

“You might want to get that cut on your arm attended.  You’re bleeding all over my floor.”  Thranduil said it in a bored tone as she lifted her arm to see a goodly gash along the back.

An Orc had flicked past her guard but she hadn’t felt the wound at the time.  Like anything bloody, when Tauriel noticed it, that was the moment it truly hurt.  Strider handed her a handkerchief from a back pocket.  It was clean with delicate embroidery at the edges of a tree made of scrolls and curls of blue and silver.

“I can’t take this…” Tauriel felt almost profane at touching something so pretty with her dirty hands.

“I have others.  My fiancé won’t mind, would be happy it was of service.”  He smiled, lighting his gray eyes and easing the severe lines of his face.

 Tauriel wrapped up her arm, thanking him again.  She smiled to Frodo, touching his face with her left. Maybe, one day, there would be a child, someone she would love as fiercely as she did its father. Kili’s son or daughter would never know the indifference that she had. Mentally, Tauriel blamed Sigrid and her contagious pregnancy hormones in the air day and night that made her think of these things.  Kili’s black hair and warm smile.  Her height, definitely her height.

Beorn gave a grumble about time sliding away as the man Strider took Frodo’s hand with a wink.  It was heartbreaking but it had to be done. Looking at this from every angle, she told herself that it was the right choice. Beorn was in the lead as they ran down the stairs to the pulsating Hummer.  Taking shotgun once again, Tauriel checked her phone as Bofur began catching them up on Fili and Nori.  The Beornings laughed at the hilarious chase.

“Fili and Nori are back safe.  They had two dump trucks and a dozer waiting for their pursuers.  Damn Orcs didn’t stand a chance!”  Bofur giggled with manic glee as he continued to look at his phone. “Not sure they will need body bags to send the remains home.  Maybe a few jars!”

Her phone had started vibrating once they made it outside.  The ringer was still off since before they had arrived at Dimrill Dale. Her heart in her throat, Tauriel scrolled through the messages as Bofur was just getting warmed up with the carnage at home. Bard had been contacted to come and make an ‘official’ report as an unavoidable accident.

“Bofur, so gross!”  Tauriel found it hard to suppress her laughter at the energetic man in the backseat. “I just got an interesting text from Dis. Bilbo says there is a shipment tomorrow night going through to Mount Gundabad.”

Beorn sat behind the wheel, checking in with his Beornlings.  He had not shift the vehicle in drive yet, still sitting in the Mirkwood parking lot outside of the vault. “Where?”

“Woodland highway. They are using Torog Transport, very punctual.”  Tauriel whispered the words as her excitement built.

The transport company was known to traffic in all manner of illegal stuff. Their founder ran everything on a schedule that was calculated down the vehicle speed and road breaks.  When one engages in breaking the law, you want to make sure you keep what you stole and it gets to its destination.  Stone Transport only worked when the sun went down. And they were very good at delivery. 

Beorn snapped her a look, grinning at her expression. “Red Hairs, I think we should help ourselves to the cargo. If you can hold a knife with bleeding arm.”

Fili might have been right if the appreciative way he looked at her was any indication but Tauriel had no interest in the big Russian.  Her heart was in Paris, Kili was the one she loved, the one she longed for each night.

“I’ll be fine.  Bofur?  You in?”  Tauriel eased forward to look around Beorn as a forester walked outside of Vault.

Bofur’s ‘Hell yeah’ was louder than needed, wringing the much needed laugher that had been missing for the last few hours.  It was rusty, tumbling at first until the cab filled with giggles to an almost hysterical degree.  Tauriel heard the big Bear shift the SUV into gear, leaving flipping a u turn to head off the property.  Glanwen texted goodbye, reminding her about the man upstairs.

“Beorn, who is Strider? I get the idea you two are acquainted?”  Tauriel rolled her neck and shoulders as the big man roared the Hummer out of Mirkwood.

Silence fell for a moment, the Beornling in the back with Bofur both doing nothing to dispel the quiet.  It wasn’t oppressive, not the heavy feeling of too many words that could never be said.  Beorn weighed his words, chewing them first to make sure they were correct.  It was how she knew it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t everything Medved knew.  It was just what he wanted her to know at the moment.

“He is good man. One, you know if you think about it long enough.”  The Hummer took the quick left onto Woodland and head towards Dale. “He is someone who works for peace in our time. A warm bed and happy life far from war.”

“Sometimes there is a peace that can only be found on the other side of war.” Bofur told them quietly, as he settled into the deep leather.

“Yes.” Beorn answered solemnly, looking in distance at the ending night. “It’s called grief.”

 

************

Bolg and the four Orcs had grouped together into their SUV, parking his truck off a side road not far away. One of them would drive it back while he took up the back seat with his pet.  He would have her, he was so close to getting everything he wanted.  The gooseflesh rippled long his body as he panted with the rush.

The Orcs followed him, knowing that he was in the leader in his father’s absence.  The old man would be along soon. The intel that was flying across his phone showed that Mount Gundabad was almost ready to unleash what was left of their force, promising death to the Durinsons and their people. The red cunt had cut a little deeper than expected at the base and the Dragon’s den. Smaug had decreed that there would be no further waiting, everyone was called in for this. He would unleash the Orcs tonight in reprisal for Erebor’s insolence. After Durin’s Folk was dead, the Orcs would retire to Mount Gundabad for the interim until further plans were made.

Walking up the small knoll, the road between Kingdom subdivision and Erebor should be deserted, yet it was packed with cars and people.  Bolg was almost sure they had beaten the Ford here with the boy, taking the back trails after he had met with the Dale Orcs his father had sent. There was cheering and people singing, a loud cacophony of joyous celebration. Bolg felt baffled as he indicated two of the Orcs to remain while they went to investigate what was happening.

Moving with stealth through the trees with the Orcs at his back, he could see two wreaked SUVs with steam coming out of their engines.  One lay on its side underneath a large bulldozer, its occupants squished out of the cab to ooze blood down the sides. A large dump truck was beside them obviously had been used as well with the red paint flaking across the blades of the front scoop.  They were too late, the Durinsons had beaten back the advance teams that Azog had sent.

“Hey! What the-“ A rotund ginger haired man waddled out of the cab of the big rig before one of the Orcs sliced his leg with a long knife.

The fat man fell with a scream to the ground at their feet, unable to stop himself from tumbling from the platform.  Bolg immediately stabbed into the quivering flesh at the middle as the man continued to howl in pain, opening him up for his innards to pop free.  Another Orc put his sword into the neck through the man’s orange toned beard, shutting off any further screams as he lay dying.

A man yelled to Bolg’s right from the other side of the road, his call answered by two more.  They had been seen.  The man held up a crossbow, taking aim with a steady hand.  Bolg was already moving when the arrow hit the tire of the truck, exploding him back into a tree.  A white mist clouded his vision but the burning sensation on his face and hands made him run.

Bolg didn’t care if the others made it or not.  The heated itch on his cheeks hurt as he ghosted through the forest, running from the killers at his back. Stumbling when his head began to ache, Bolg pitched forward next to an icy mud hole not far from their vehicle. Scrubbing his hands in the muck, then his face, he was able to think once more.  He smeared the cold gooey everywhere it burned, trying to push away the pain. Another Orc tumbled through the brush, sliding on his ass to Bolg’s feet.  The Orc’s face was bubbling mass of puss.

The Orcs that had been left as guards, grabbed him under the arms to hoist him towards their SUV. The yelling down the embankment grew louder as they pushed him into the backseat.  The squeal of tires banged into his sensitive ears, a headache swelling his brain with agony.  The two in the front seat were mumbling, swerving into a turn too fast and narrowly made it out the other side. 

“Get me home.” Bolg rasped before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Bombur… It wasn’t easy to pick him for this particular death. Bolg is one of the worst and really causes more damage than Azog in this work. The White Fire arrow burned Bolg some, scarring his face to be more in line with what he looked like in the Hobbit movie. Not pretty at all, definitely not date material.  
> Torog is a name for Troll kind in Black speech.. 
> 
> I appreciate everyone who has picked up this work to read and enjoys it.. It will get dark before it gets better.


	19. The Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8:17 am February 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of the chapter is Fili's POV as Durin's Folk tries to deal Bombur's death and Tauriel's destruction
> 
> Massive Warning for the second part  
> Smaug's POV with Azog..read at your own risk.. discussions of rape, child abuse, just nasty Smaug ickyness

Fili was trying and failing to keep up with the conversation. The screaming was overlapping each other in a desperate bid to be heard, or at least, be the top dog in the room. If Tauriel didn’t bring it down an octave, she would shatter glass along with his head.  Yes, he might have napped before the wild ride that was an exploding Silvertine Mountain, but he was reaching a limit on how much more he could take without a rest.  Shifting once more as an ache settled into his shoulders, he could dream of his bed and a warm Sigrid to cuddle.  But none of that was going to happen while his uncle and his future sister snarled at each other like rabid jungle cats.

He was definitely getting too old for this shit.  He and Nori had pulled off the back trails from Dimrill Dale onto Woodland Highway in a skid that looked like stunt drivers were behind the wheel.  Beorn’s people had opened up their engines driving side by side up ahead on the four lane road.  As one, they had slowed, then cut right at the turn off to the Forest Road that wound through Mirkwood.  Tauriel was taking them a back way to the main campus and it was better if Fili didn’t follow. 

They let the others go, heading straight into Carrock’s crossroads.  The whole township had a deserted feel, an eerie quality of no life. The buildings were shuddered and dark, closed for any business.  The gas station that was normally open twenty four hours was closed.  Beorn’s work, no doubt to save his people if Orcs came raiding though the town in retaliation.  

Nori got on his cell, calling Erebor immediately to let them know he and Fili were coming in hot.  It was when they passed the turn offs to Longwell and Greylin roads that he really understood the meaning of ‘hot’.  Two SUVs had barreled out of nowhere, slamming into the back of his truck.  If he wasn’t worried about keeping up the charade, Fili knew he would have pulled over to put his axe through their heads.  The hammering and evading continued all the way to the off ramps to Erebor.  Mountain Road had never looked so sweet in all his life, especially the musical sound of metal crunching behind him as the dozers rolled over his pursuers.

It was much later that he heard about Bombur being cut down by Orcs hidden in the ditches off Mountain Road. The man had been Durin’s folk since he was legally able to ride a motorcycle. Knowing that Bombur had met his end like that was sobering.  Stone had fired one the White Fire arrows, blasting two further into the woods.  The club members had gone after the remains, only to find a melted one at the bottom of the hill.  His buddy had escaped, slinking back to Azog and what was left of the Dragon’s forces.

For the most part, Fili had been able to ignore Thorin since he had arrived back. The Oakenshield showed himself in charge, strutting the length of Mountain Road with Dwalin in his wake. Thorin was in the process of organizing the vehicle removal or what was left of them of the flattened metal and dead bodies. Bombur’s body had been taken away, shrouded in a dark blanket.  It took five men to lift the stretcher that held him, yet no one complained. Nothing was said until after his stout friend was loaded in a SUV for his last ride to Erebor. 

When Tauriel arrived without Frodo, the shit hit the fan so hard, the blades would have bent. The redhead shrugged Oakenshield off like he didn’t matter, like nothing he said was worth her time.  Such disregard for the burly Durinson’s opinions had sent Thorin into a tailspin.  Worse, Bilbo had several meltdowns all at once.  She was taken back to Durin’s house by Gandalf, angry and tear stricken. The sheriff called someone, Mirkwood if Fili had to guess so that their guest might talk to her nephew for the first time in years without evil lurking over his shoulder.  Well, Thranduil was _exactly_ evil…yet.

Fili had understood Tauriel’s reservations for the boy, having him and Bilbo in the same place was a very bad idea. He was under the opinion that Thorin had been the only one to keep her at Erebor instead of running back to Smaug to save her nephew. Thranduil might be helpful if he thought he had some leverage but really it was the safest place for the child at the moment.  The poor kid was getting passed from one to another like a collection plate in church.

Two hours later, the constant bombardment of Thorin’s verbal assault had cracked Tauriel’s armor to unleash a ginger’s fury. His uncle couldn’t shut up long enough to see that it was a wise move. Or maybe, it was because he wasn’t in charge of the decision. Fili kept to himself, letting them rage on their own. His own thoughts were of no use in this situation, his concerns go unnoticed.

“You blew up his house!  What the fuck were you thinking?  Were you thinking? Or did you shit your brains out this morning?”  Thorin wasn’t a subtle man, but he looked like a he was heading for heart attack at the rate to which he was screaming.

The beet red skin was four alarm shade above his beard, advising that a coronary was imminent. Thorin’s hair now stood on end, as if he’d scrambled his fingers through the strands one too many times. The angles of his body were tight as a drum, as he paced the room before her.  Tauriel had been quiet until Oin had given her the pain shot. Obviously, the light dose removes her mental filter as if it was never there. Not one to take an ass chewing calmly, she hashed insults right back to him.  Oin was on the other side of the small desk, completely focused on her wound.

“You’re acting like he is untouchable.  I can assure you. Smaug is very touchable indeed.”  Tauriel stated in an even louder voice that impressed the hell out of Fili.  Considering the fact that Oin was stitching her up yet again was the icing on the cake.

Stone and Dwalin stood against a far wall with completely opposite expressions.  Stone was bored and it showed, while Dwalin was furious but at who, Fili didn’t know yet. Probably at Tauriel for taking some of the fight to the Orcs rather than wait at home like a female should. No one had believed that she had destroyed his hideout, or maybe they hadn’t considered exactly how far she would go.  Fili remembered the look on her face while she tortured that Orc, removed and completely in control.  Tauriel had known what she was doing, executing the man coldly.  She had taken the gloves off, and nobody realized it.

 His mother had a seat not far away, staring at Tauriel with an unreadable look. She had left Sigrid and Bilbo at the Durin’s House, to come and be here for Tauriel once she heard of the injury.  Fili could see worry and so much else on her face as she watched Oin dip in the needle again and again into the ragged flesh wound.

“How exactly is yelling at Tauriel going to change what has already happened?” Fili had to raise his voice but the tone was even to keep everyone from freaking out. “Bombur lost his life tonight in this fight. We should be sitting with his widow, his children, letting them know that we will protect them.”

He had spent his whole life around men who pushed and shoved, shouted like their voice was the only one that mattered. Tough men who thought they can make anything happen just by being aggressive. A real nice family tree the Durinsons had. Murder and mayhem on every gnarled branch. The world belongs to the meat eaters, and if he had to dish it raw, then so be it.

 “Ms. Suicidal Mirkwood here, has blown up Mount Gundabad and Smaug’s house!  Keep poking at that Dragon long enough and you will be lucky to wake up in the morning without your throat slit!”  Dwalin was on a roll with his hyperactive rant.

It was all Fili could do not to laugh at the motley red and pink colors exploding on his bald head amongst the ink that crowned his skull. Dwalin looked like a reject from Tattoo Nightmares.  The black BDUs were standard for the male with a black pullover with the Erebor emblem stitched on the side, stretching across his barrel chest. The pair of axes hung from his back in a web harness that attached belt from over his shoulders.  

“Considering she is sleeping in Kili’s old room, not three feet from where my fiancé and I sleep, I’d say she’s as safe as houses until tomorrow morning.” Fili shot Tauriel a smile, getting tired one in return. “But you do need to dial it back, Tauriel.  Let the heat die down a little before you start again.”

“No.” The word was emphatic as was her look. “I’m not done yet.”

Fili knew that his tactic that wouldn’t work but he had to try. She was going to crash soon, running on nerve and that iron will.  It could only go so far, _she_ could only do so much before this hectic pace caught her unawares.  The trick to doing things people say are impossible, is confidence. As long as you seem to know what you’re doing, and never hesitate, it creates the possibility rather than the impossible.

“Fine! Kill yourself.” Thorin picked up a magazine as he began to flip through the pages with disinterest. “Your death will make getting Kili to come home a lot easier. I can marry him off to a malleable female while he’s grieving.”

Before Dwalin could wheeze in enough air to yell, Tauriel snatched a knife from the sheath at her calf, a narrow seven inch blade. She threw it the length of the room to pin Thorin’s magazine to the wall to his right, not but a handful of inches from his head.  The force behind the throw was substantial enough to drive the blade an inch into the drywall, quivering with the impact.  Tauriel was grabbing a scalpel from Oin’s medi pack beside her with a look of murderous rage as Dis finally weighed in with a loud bellow.

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone in the room froze at the roar, looking for the exit.  Dis was a force unto herself and one of the few that could and would take on Thorin and Dwalin at the same time.  Even now, Dwalin backed up a step, looking down in submission to her.  Thorin just looked incensed that Tauriel might try for his head.  But considering the shit he was spouting, Fili considered holding down his uncle and let the redhead have a go.

He stepped back as his smaller mother strode across the room to get into Tauriel’s face. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”  The little woman spoke softly but the feeling carried across the room. “There are faster ways than what you’re doing.”

“No. I am doing this _for_ Kili.” Tauriel leaned into Dis’ face, three inches separating the two.  They locked into each other, neither giving way.  “Smaug and his goons don’t get to intimidate me, they don’t get to harm _my family_ , and they don’t get to kill in such wanton hate.  The Red Dragon has been getting his way for far too long, letting that bastard Azog turn rabid in the streets. They need to learn what the word no means, and I’m going to teach them that lesson over and over until they get it.” Tauriel’s rage was still on her face but she focused on Dis. “I told you, in the kitchen that day with Oin, I would always save Kili. I can’t… _I can’t_ think of a life without him, Dis.”

The sadness of that thought battled the anger on her face for the right to hold the ground. Tauriel had only spoken aloud her feelings, something many tried to hide or cover up.  But there had never been any holding back between Kili and Tauriel. She loved his brother, loved him blindly, maybe stupidly. It made him proud and afraid at the same time, to know that there was someone who loved Kili so much that she would blow up a mountain to keep him safe.  It was the same complete devotion, crazed and true, that Fili recognized in himself when he thought about Sigrid.  The tall redhead tucked her face away or tried to until Dis grabbed her chin to push her head high.  The older woman studied Tauriel, looked close at her eyes as they welled with tears.

Dis gritted her teeth in a fierce grin. “Fine. _You kill them all!_ Get your hands on as many as you can and cut them down.  Make them fear the night and every that lurks in the shadows. But you come home alive! You _swear_ to me, here and now. You will come back alive for my son!”

Tauriel grasped Dis’ hand that held her chin. “I swear it. On the love I bear your son, I swear it.”

“Good!” Dis’ grin had a feral bent, reminding Fili the reason why the female side of the animal kingdom was the most feared.  Lions might be king but it was the lionesses who do the pride’s hunting.

The room erupted in shouting and arguing until Dis turned to them all with a loud yell. “Shut it!” The little woman looked around the room at each of them until she stopped at her brother. “And you, Thorin. Quit the reverse psychology bullshit. Kili wouldn’t look at another woman after her.”

His mother swept from the room after that, leaving mayhem in her wake. Dwalin chased after her all the subtly of land yacht Cadillac in a NASCAR race.  Tauriel resumed her seat with Oin who looked at her with a mixture of fear and respect. The redhead projected the calm air of a tiger at rest as she allowed him to continue to stitch the wounds on her arm.

Stone joined him at last, content that the worst had left the room when his uncle followed.  A medium height to Fili, Thorin “Stonehelm” Durinson was nothing like his father.  He had a jovial air, warm and open to everyone where his father was a devious bastard that Fili wanted to run over with his now beat up truck. Stone had grown up in Erebor alongside Kili, Fili and Gimli, raising his own special kind of hell for Dain.

“How does Kili do it? I admit right now, watching Tauriel, I am slightly turned on but scared shitless too.” Stone had snuck close on his right to whisper in his ear.  Fili saw Tauriel look at them from across the room, he wasn’t sure she had not heard Stone’s comments.

Stone was bi, or at least in a monogamous relationship with Ori.  Fili could remember Stone dating girls in high school yet seemed to have found the love of his life with the youngest MacDurin. Once it was pointed out to him, Fili couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed it previously.  The flirty looks, the absent touching.  The pair had moved into one of the cabins at Erebor over the winter, much to Dain’s frustration. 

 “Fear is healthy considering that you will be working with her.  But Kili will gut you if you try anything. That is unless Ori doesn’t get there first.” Fili gave him a smile as Stone snorted at him.

“Ori doesn’t have competition. I love that little man too much.” Stone settled beside him against the wall, crossing his arms once more. “If I was inclined to look at women again, damn sure wouldn’t be her! I like my yogurt slinger where it is.”

There are some conversations that even a reformed slut doesn’t want to have.  Discussing Stone’s and Ori’s sex life was odd for him. Fili had nothing against different loving than he preferred, but he didn’t understand the context of wanting a man rather than Sigrid.

“I’m glad for Ori. You two look cute together. But really, don’t talk to my brother.  Kili would gut you for that comment, thinking you were insulting her.” Fili looked at dark haired man with a measure of amusement as he turned to leave. “Psychotics, the both of them.”

He eased outside, leaving Tauriel in Oin’s and Stone’s care.  While he mentally snickered at his cousin’s comments, Fili hadn’t been kidding that Kili would gut Dain’s son like a fish if he tried anything. His brother had sent an email earlier with an update, but also saying he would call in the morning when he got off work.  Tauriel had been true to her word on keeping him locked down in Paris. Grey Company had taken his brother to their headquarters in Montemarte where he had a very lovely cot in the downstairs dorms. He wasn’t happy but he understood.

The hall was a sterile unassuming blah, not the old antique flavor that Smaug had coveted.  Thinking as he walked, all the treasures that the Dragon had amassed through travel and death had been destroyed tonight.  A lifetime of wanting pretty swords, rich paneling, and cut glass fixtures with ugly expensive chandeliers. Fili, himself, saw his world in black and white: filthy snow outside, a hollow dawn sky, the gray slate of the walls - water stains on the ceiling tiles, like giant spider webs, eating into them - and his own skin, an ashy patina enveloping his body who saw the sun too little. Even the wounds on his hands, hardened and crusted, have lost their red.  

It was the life he had chosen when he had pulled on the Durin’s Folk cut and mounted his first rocker.  The busted knuckles, the scars, the justified fear that he might walk out of his house one day and never return.  Once he hadn’t cared for anything more than standing beside his brother to face any enemy of his people, to fight for them as they would fight for him. But it was a lie, a shit lie wrapped in a fluffy outer crust.   

Those days were gone now, blown to the wind.  Kili had left for another life. For love, for happiness and he found it.  Trudging across the frozen parking lot, Fili couldn’t help but admire his little brother’s fortitude.  Reckless he was growing up, now just as recklessly in love.  It had taken their support, his knowing that he was loved by Fili and their mother to give him that necessary push to leave the nest. 

Driving to Durin’s house, he could see the lights on in the living room and kitchen.  Darks shapes moved in lighted windows, the family that was blood and not who had joined the Durinsons in their fight.  It wasn’t a fair thing to ask for someone else lay down their life.  Radagast was a victim, a casualty of the escalation. Bombur was another name on the ever growing butcher’s bill. There are times when Erebor triumphs, and others where . . . she fails. This whole month of death felt like the beginning of the end.

He took the path, hurrying up the shale lined lane to see the woman who made his world turn. Reaching the patio, Fili stopped to the scene on the other side of the wall of checkerboard glass of Bilbo and Sigrid at the bar.  The Luin brothers, one of them at least, had spotted him.  He walked to the door, drawing the ladies notice of the action then to himself still out in the dawn light.  As in every time, he felt his breath whoosh from his body when Sigrid looked at him.

There were probably a million ways to detail his lady’s physical attributes: the cut of her jaw, the line of the neck, the sleek curls of her hair. Yet, not a sentence, or an entire book for that matter, could come close to describing her presence. The kicked in the gut feeling or like he was standing on a ledge with a ten story drop yawning down before him. 

She was the mountain range for his wanderlust, and every sunrise and sunset that ever was or could be. With a look or a syllable of a word, she possessed the power to unlock his rigidity and transform his life to a startling degree. Sigrid was his breath, his heart, giving him flight even as his feet stayed on the ground. He had been a wolf, hunting for his next conquest until she had tamed him.  Rather like Tauriel had his brother.  The women in their lives had made pets out of their dumb asses. True as any other fact in life, all males long for that loving touch. Eventually.

Fili looked away because he had to when Sigrid walked out into the light to greet him. She was too beautiful, everything that was good in his life. It was either find something else interesting to see or his head would explode like a melon. The long night with Tauriel made him feel dirty, not just the blood that soaked his clothes but the feeling of disgust for himself that hadn’t settled.  The things he had done, witnessed. He should have changed before coming here, distanced his love from the destruction. 

Her hand found his beard, scraping into the wiry hair.  Sigrid’s touch grounded him, loved him until he knew he would be ok. Fili couldn’t lose her, not just because she was bearing his child but because he didn’t know who he was without her. In the twilight of our minds, we make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves. The worst fear he had was that something would happen to Sigrid when he was off fighting.  Fili just knew he was finished with taking an axe into battle if he started thinking down those roads.

Sigrid jumped into his arms, the splash of warm tears on his face brought him back to the present away from his fears. She captured his mouth with hers, feasting on his clapped lips. He knew this intimate act was pleasurable only with her—for it was there that their hearts threaded together. Their mouths, their lips, their words, their life.  He needed this affirmation that he was still alive and she was alive and for the next ten hours, it was just them together.

What a blessed if painful thing, this business of being alive. But Fili knew he would always sleep better with blades beneath their beds. They helped cut the fears and nightmares in two.

*******************

“What? How can these pictures be Bolg’s face? It looks like someone took a hot knife to it!”  Azog rasped into the phone. 

Smaug kicked a rock onto a piece of wood that had been in his study.  The wood itself, was a charred depiction of a knight or might have been once.  He, too, had seen the pictures that had worked his right hand into a terrible frenzy. A white gas from an explosive arrow had bloomed to melt the skin, possibly white phosphorus.  He would need an equalizer, something just as effective to counteract their advantage.  It was too hard for him to believe that it was a single blast that scarred Azog’s son so magnificently.  Just as incredible that a woman, a mere female had brought down his mountain. 

Of late, Tauriel Silvan’s name had been on his lips a little too often.

“It is not natural that she is so good at this.  She is _Thranduil’s_ get for fuck’s sake.” Azog growled as he kicked aside debris. 

“And Yazna is yours. Ahhhh my little Turkish Delight.  One day, I would like to see those two girls go at it.”  The smile grew as he wondered amongst the destruction.

“Fucking or fighting?” Azog asked with an indifferent look as he followed.

The man had not cared for his daughter, seeing her as inconvenience. Giving her to Smaug might have been a blessing, at least it guaranteed she would for a while longer. Too skinny from starvation but not broken, yet.  Bending her to his will was fine but he didn’t want her destroyed.  Although, there was only so much bending that can be performed with a young child before their mind shatters.  Somehow or maybe it was written in Yazna’s DNA courtesy of the sperm donor across from him now that prevented her strong will from splintering.  

“Women have always fought,” Smaug educated the pale Orc. “Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement in many countries. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”

Thinking of Yazna and her formative years always brought a smile to his face.  She had been so young but willing so long as she wasn’t forced to go back to Azog.  He had fucked her that first day, the rest of the day.  She hadn’t cried, nor screamed. Just stared at him with those wide pale eyes when he folded her legs to her flat chest for deeper penetration.  In later years when he taught her fighting, gifting her to the winner if she lost, Yazna hadn’t screamed nor cried then. 

Smaug wondered if Tauriel would scream if he let Yazna soften her up first.  Would she cry and beg for her Kili?  What lengths would she go to keep him alive if he was in Yazna’s tender embrace?  How loudly could she beg for the Dragon to fuck her if it meant keeping the Durin’s spawn in good health?

But she could never be trusted.  No matter what Thranduil’s little twat did, or gave of herself, Smaug looked around what was left of his compound and knew he could never turn his back on her. _No_.  He knew that he could drill her nine ways from Sunday in every orifice she possessed and she would still find a way to emasculate him if he passed out. Probably going so far as to use her teeth if there were nothing sharp at hand. Women like that didn’t stop. They just keep coming with the same single minded focus that would give lesser men the watery shits.

“Azog, tell the men to stand down from the attack at dawn. We need to find an answer to this new weapon of theirs. There is no reason to watch more men liquefy.”  Drake looked to the pale bastard as he picked up a twisted piece of metal.

Ideas are bulletproof. Smaug knew this better than anyone. His life was built upon the perception that he himself was bulletproof. All of his minions believed this thanks to the visceral demonstration of taking one of the ranks and beating the man down before his comrades.  Then killing him for any possible weakness the man displayed. The idea that Smaug the Terrible could be hurt, might be hurt, his home razed to so much crumbled rock had been unthinkable until that red headed cunt came home. As loathed as he was to admit it, Drake had made a mistake months ago when he let her and that Durin spawn run off to Paris.

A woman of many talents, Smaug mused as he looked around the destruction. And intelligent, too. He'd have to kill her soon just to sleep better at night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Smaug needs a good killing. No, It will still be Bard not Tauriel like the story..this stuff isn't easy to write for me, but I wanted to show a morally diseased individual and his pov is the nasty stuff that I can think, or at least write. Since Smaug was being affected the most in this installment, you are going to see more of him.. I waited in part 2 because that was the beginning of Tauriel and Kili and it was their voice. Part 5 will end at a version of BOTFA, so more players and more povs...


	20. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6:50 PM February 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin's POV...

Bilbo looked out the window to the forest beyond, rising from the sloping knolls. White powder brushed the emerald branches, thickening an already bunched greenwood. To her, it wasn't a storybook place so much as a breeding ground for the things that ate the softer parts of a person’s soul. When would Azog stomp from those ominous trees to drag her back to the hell on earth?  Was someone already scouting Mirkwood to get at Frodo? The Orcs and Smaug had been like nothing she had ever known.  The Red Dragon with Azog as his henchman had created a culture of exploitation where they are so entitled to sex and power that when they are told no, they pulled a sword and did as they liked.  

Her hand itched to reach for the nearest liquor bottle, bourbon or whiskey didn’t matter at this point. Bilbo would take tequila if that was all there was in the house. But she was too much of a coward to be that stupid. The last thing she needed was to inebriated and the pale bastard show up. Mam always said fast and scared shitless is better than slow and drunk.

The main saving grace was that Frodo was away from Smaug.  Thranduil wasn’t ideal but he was much better than the alternative.  Tauriel had explained, several times using small words while Bilbo cried and interrupted, then cried again.  Frodo couldn’t be here, not yet.  Sure, she could run to the other side of the world, hide on a rubber plantation in Vietnam or try living in the Outback in Australia. Smaug would still come for her and it wouldn’t be as pleasant as it was the first time around.  He was too connected, wired into too many areas to disappear.  The world wasn’t the huge unknown, not like it was a hundred years ago.

She had called her nephew about an hour ago.  Bilbo commended his bravery, telling him over and over how proud she was of him.  The quiet responses broke her heart a little bit more. The quiet proper sentences uttered held formal tones, as if he were speaking to an acquaintance not a loving aunt. Obviously, Frodo’s years with Smaug scarred his perspective.  Bilbo had no idea if those scars would heal or fester, yet time might heal them both and let those dark years fade into the distance.

A light glared behind her showing her face in the window pane rather the crunchy snow and spooky forest. She was not a traditional beauty. Her eyebrows were heavy and dark with a broader planed forehead.  The short brown curls with ginger notes were better suited to a woman of taller stature and lush mouth.  On her, those unruly features gave her a brash, unkempt appearance. Her Mam had long dark heavy hair, so straight it might have been ironed. So she had her father to thank for the curls that turned to frizz in high humidity.

Motion drew her eye in the waning afternoon sun. No sound could make it through the glass pane. Another flash of black peeped behind a fir tree not far away.

_Tauriel_

The wild card strode into a patched area that had been cleared of trees, yet the stumps remained about a foot high from the ground.  She walked amongst the tombstones of jutting wood still anchored by the roots in the frozen ground.  Here and there, she would stop, bending to run a hand over the chopped surface.  Obviously not concerned about splinters, the slow circuit ended with her leaping to the top of one of the ends.

 At first, it looked to be a game where she hopped from one stump to the next. Tauriel was practicing kicks and punches from atop them, snapping her knees up as if the motion pushed her higher in the air. With agility that would have embarrassed a cat, she continued from one slick perch to the next. The trick with the sword and apple aside, Bilbo knew that she was deadly. This put her in a whole other category.

Sometimes Tauriel spun and kicked midair, yet she never wavered when she landed. It was a deadly ballet, all tight compact action. Bilbo frowned as she watched, searching her memory for a reference to the kata style but found none.  She began to feel like a voyeur or intruder to whatever mental place the redhead went. She expected her to stop —but the dance continued without pause. 

The air current mixed behind her as more people came into the kitchen.  A draft to her left pulled Bilbo’s attention back to the doors. Fili was just closing them with more force than was needed. He slipped off his heavy jacket, putting it on the coat broad rack.  It was a novelty thing in her opinion.  A tripod of wood and animal antlers that allowed for water to pool on the floor. His boots were damp from the snow, however not as much as they could be.  His expression was not so thunderous as it had been, but he was cheesed off about something.

Mrs. Gloin appeared at the same time, hefting a large crockpot full of Kefta Mkourara or Meatball Tagine.  Romestano Luin had mentioned that he loved the spicy flavor of Moroccan food in Gloin’s presence who passed it along to his missus.  Random dishes had arrived but even Bilbo wanted to try the Tagine based on the smell alone. Unfortunately, the Luin Brothers were in Dale tonight with Gandalf, trying to get an idea of much damage Smaug had sustained.  She would keep the crock warming until he returned.

Fili poured a glass of iced tea before moving to the window. His lips quirked at Tauriel, still leaping. Obviously tonight, they were using the transport information she gave to Dis in hopes of cutting off more of the Orc’s resources. Plus, Tauriel needed to be vent more damage.  The kata was proof that she had energy to spare and willingness to be destructive that was starting to look like desperation.  Bilbo would always be grateful to her for helping Frodo escape. Yet, Tauriel might have used it as an excuse to get at Smaug and Azog anyway.

Bee didn't want to feel shame that she wasn’t out there fighting, but it was still a leech sucking away at what little happiness bloomed. Being a burglar was one thing, she snuck in and out. But hand to hand… well, that was something else. Theirs had become a world is full of impossibilities - some beautiful, some terrible and bloody - but sometimes, when you least expect it, they can become possible or at least probable. In Bilbo's case, a certain redheaded wild card cleared the way and continued to be the very definition of impossible. No one had pushed Bilbo to be more than what she currently was and adopt a different skin.  So, she would wait and watch, trying to make a difference in any manner possible.

Thorin came inside if she could judge the sudden silence correctly. The conversation picked back up after the slight hiccup. She studied his face, admiring its brutal beauty, thick block of his body. She straightened, smothering her hands in a dishtowel so they didn’t wander. One look at his stacked muscles and she wished she could explore beneath his shirt. A tingle started at the back of her tongue, a psychological need for liquid courage. Crawling into alcohol wouldn’t solve the tension that stayed on a loop between them.  It would just remove the shackles that kept her from doing something truly idiotic.  

He was staying in the house, spending the night down the hall. Every alarm bell in her head should be going off, peeling as if the signal an invasion of last ditch hormones.  Her breathing would slacken at his fierce lion expression, those blue eyes tracking her like prey as she rose out of her chair or walk across the room. The warm rush of feeling at his regard left her weak, needy. Yet such is the perversity of human nature that she hungered for what she could never have and dreamed of the impossible. There was nothing she could say to that. It wasn’t like she could ask him to go bunk with Dis or Dwalin. This was his house. 

His gaze burned into hers from across the room, like he could see past the wall she had built into secret parts that no one had ever seen. It was the same for her, that same feeling of connection. Her mind backtracked over memories of all the scars, big and small, riddling his hard body. She marveled at all the battles he must have fought to earn so many. Not for the first time, she wondered what those battles had cost him.  Did it equal more than a pound of flesh?  What kind of mortgage did he owe to guilt?

In war, men lose what makes them great. Their creativity. Their wisdom. Their joy. All that’s left is their utility.  The Orcs and Spiders were prime examples of that mindset. Azog was a very capable commander. Over and over again, the pale sadist would strip a man down to his bare essentials, to where the victim was so mindfucked that killing people looked like fun.  Those of the Defiler’s army found violence to be deeply enjoyable, thanks to the adrenaline rush. But remove the satisfaction, and the act becomes mechanical. That was never true for Azog, who wedded his need for pain and pleasure until he couldn’t feel one without the other.

Fili turned away from the window, staring at Thorin with laser focus. His expression was closed but the underlying freeze was just building in layers between uncle and nephew. They had blown up at each other last night at the Ironworks. Both had raged at the other from their own points of view.  Bilbo cringed involuntarily at the tension; the angry emotions in the room jarred her nerves like metal gouging metal.   A fight was brewing again, if she could feel them gearing up to see who could knock the other off the mountain. Like big horned sheep.

If a person doesn’t listen carefully, details get missed. Important things. Like Fili’s continued flexing of his hands.  There was a need in that man to go after Thorin, to pound some type of response beyond the typical Durinson stubbornness. Dis had made comments that things were shifting every day; the dynamic that had worked so well for years was crumbling.  Fili refused to be led about anymore which in turn was making Thorin suspicious of his allegiance.   

Part of her wanted to leave, allow them the opportunity to air out their differences in private.  She wasn’t friends with many and said friends were already in the room.  All she could do was wait and hope that the storm passed them by.

88**88**88

He watched.

He made decisions based upon the actions of others. Thorin circled the room, taking in the mood of everyone present.  Fili looked remote, stiff and closed off. Balin and Dori spoke in low tones while setting up napkins and other dinner necessities.  Finally, he let himself find her across the room, and the wait was worth his trouble.

Bilbo busily gave an account to Mrs. Gloin about her trip to Marrakech over a year ago.  The poor woman made it sound like a tourist vacation instead of a robbery that Smaug had staged for her training. The flat expression of the former burglar’s eyes were the only indication that the story wasn’t completely detailed. The back and forth was limited as Mrs. Gloin’s English was good but not always conversation worthy.  Some of her words were hilarious because Thorin knew she had picked them up from her husband.  Her uses of the “screwer” were a favorite.

Thorin watched Bee, taking the way her pink bow mouth formed the words. She was much more expressive now than before at Devil’s Night. Her eyes were widely spaced with a unique quality that made it feel as if she looked into a man’s soul. Maybe she did. Thorin didn’t know, but he could easily imagine a lifetime trying to figure her out. Her wide mouth and sensual lips fascinated him. He imagined kissing her, just losing himself in the contours, the firm line of her lips, the curious sweep of her tongue. _Her taste_.  

Sometimes women who aren’t perfect physically, are more interesting; they’ve done more, or learned something that puts the mad twinkle in the eye or a grin with saucy curve. Bilbo possessed that quality, the enigma wrapped in a conundrum and all that shit.  He had humped beautiful women, plain women, ugly women that made him want to boot their ass out after he got a nut.  Neither Dwalin nor Thorin had been shy about the opposite sex and he made no apologies for his preferences. He enjoyed looking for the wet spot. But Bilbo was different because she made him _want_ to change, to be the man who had one woman. And that single thought in his mind had wrecked the careful Jinga Tower of bullshit upon which he had built his life.

So much was jumbled as he watched her sample what looked like meatballs out of a crock pot.  Bilbo’s smile at the rich enjoyment of food, lit Thorin up inside like never before. A single infectious grin from her added a few more fissures in his granite soul. For the first time in his life, the Oakenshield felt like he was right where he was supposed to be.  Underneath his hard shell was a heart that beat for those he loved, his family both blooded and befriended. Thorin had a horribly bad way of showing it; explanations always fell apart in his hands thanks to his wrecking ball of a mouth.    

Dori and Balin helped Bee in dinner preparation, no doubt lead by their stomachs. Large meals had become a comfort in these times with a veritable feast laid out in the kitchen every day. Dori had been so stressed when he wasn’t with Bilbo, pouring over old Southern Living recipes for new ideas.  With so many people in the house, the MacDurin had managed to tempt more than one into the deadly sin of gluttony. Pound cakes, soufflés both savory and sweet, pies of very sort were sent to families in Kingdom subdivision. Durin’s House freezers were full of prepared meals for the next decade. 

“Where’s Dis?” Thorin tossed out the line since his twisted sister wasn’t in the room.

Dori froze, like a deer that had attracted the attention of a predator. Thorin and Dis possessed a kind of odd truce that held so long as certain things were not discussed. There was mental list compiled that was beginning to add up. Last fall. Their father’s and brother’s death, her sons’ insurrection. She took charge of calling the other charters rather than Thorin because Dis had a better relationship with many of the presidents than her brother.  A hand of steel encased in a velvet glove. Each night during dinner, there was a continued discussion on who was sending how many men. Where the new people would be staying when they arrived.  What areas needed additional security. 

Dori tried to gain the room’s attention to see who was going to put forward the requested information. Of late, Thorin’s temper was a separate entity from himself, a breathing live thing that never failed to tear into someone with starving enthusiasm. A few people looked around at the each other, Balin included. Some just let their attention hit the floor in skating refusal to speak. 

A few minutes passed in loud silence until Fili shattered it with a measured response. “Mom and Sigrid are working on baby clothes.”

Baby clothes, the Oakenshield fumed, almost shaking as fury whipped across his nerve endings. They were on the brink of war and the women are working on baby clothes? Defenses needed to be structured so that Bilbo and Frodo might be reunited. Tauriel had said over and over how the Mountain wasn’t as defensible as Mirkwood. No doubt the redheaded toady had opposition research on him from her days working for daddy Thranduil. She knew where the weak points were; so why wasn’t she out fixing them instead of hopping like a frog on a hot plate?

Fili held his gaze for a minute then looked away.  Staring contests were for children; it didn’t establish dominance the way that many think it does.  All you do is strain your eyes.  His nephew’s attention was fixed out the window, his body angled away from the room. Balin spoke up in the background, broaching the topic of transferring the deed of the house that Bombur lived in to his widow.

There had been other things said along that line earlier today, placating things.  Fili had been harping nonstop about the loss of their MC brother. The soft talk wasn’t earning him any points with the Oakenshield either. In fact, it was quite worrisome that no one other than Dwalin and himself were actively taking stock of their home.  His nephew would be in charge one day, all of it would be his burden.  Fili had to be able to see beyond one death and not risk the fate of Erebor. Nothing mattered, not even his feelings for Bilbo, when it came to his birthright.

Thorin continued to listen to the chatter, yet there was a niggle in the back of his skull that bugged him about his nephew. Something about the stance, maybe it was yesterday when Fili roared in his face at the Ironworks. A challenge to him in front of others couldn’t be tolerated. The innate need to push his nephew down, back into a place that Thorin could understand was stronger than he realized. Things had been getting out of hand lately.  Too much backtalk about Thorin not being proactive enough in last years about the growing Orc threat.  Too many sympathies for Tauriel who placed herself in harm’s way where the Durinsons had stayed at home to complain about her methods, never the results.  The Oakenshield couldn’t say who was behind the rumors; that was Dwalin’s responsibility. 

The uncomfortable feeling returned to coagulate the very air he breathed. Dori tried next to keep the neutral conversation going. “That is so sweet! Dis is very creative! The baby will be in onesies and swaddled for the first six weeks anyway. Very little reason to do more than that expect for the necessary pictures.”

The white haired gentleman looked around wildly for help in the next step on the verbal latter.  Fili responded. “Mom feels the same, Dori. You should go and give them your opinion.”

The older MacDurin smiled broadly at the compliment though, Thorin felt it was just a correct observation. Fili scrutinized him for a moment then kept going as if his mother’s brother mattered little.  That disregard chafed Thorin’s jock more than anything.

“Have you even bothered to go to the Ironworks today? Or have you been cuddling your day away with your woman.” Thorin grumbled from across the room. “Somedays, you're too much like your mother to suit me, and I'm an authority on her. Slack and whiny.  I have no idea when you started getting led around by your cock but I didn’t raise you that way.” 

The comment rolled off the boy, negligently ignoring the jab. Fili folded his arms over his broad chest. He was a hand full of inches shorter than Thorin but proportional without too short legs or waist. All of his bones served a purpose. Like they weren’t there just to hold him up, they made a statement to the world.  His blond hair was all Finn Dwarrow, bold and leonine with the Durinson blue eyes that missed nothing. The boy had the same iron, the same will as any Durinson.  His quiet comments and lack of response to Thorin’s verbal barbs grated. Since when did he, Thorin “Oakenshield” Durinson, get to be almost ignored? 

 “Where is that destructive bitch anyway?” Thorin said as he took a seat in a chair to kick out his legs, switching tactics. “I'll take crazy over stupid any day. Better conversationalists.”

Fili’s smile was as icy as the frost gathered on the panes of the window behind him. His glare never lifted as he shoved off from his post, striding into the room.  Every line was cut crisp with anger that bled aggression from every poor.  Thorin could feel the deep coil of anger spiraling in his gut as his nephew moved within striking distance. Hostility gleamed in those blue eyes that were so like his own.  He wanted to chuckle at him, glad Fili had the balls to finally take him on. He didn’t count last night, figuring it was last minute jitters that let the blond’s mouth off the chain.  But oh, this was much different, a challenge. Thumping the boy back into his place wouldn’t be a problem.

“Why do you think I am talking to you?”

“Watch your tone, little lady.” Thorin replied snidely as he took to his feet.

“Why don’t I introduce my boot to your face?  After that, we can discuss my tone.”

Bilbo twittered with a laugh tipping on the edge of hysteria. Her hands fluttered, dropping a few plates clumsily on the counter.  The bugler kept to the other side of the bar as the others worked themselves into a huddle out of their way.  No one interfered, not when two males were about to lock horns over something.

Thorin felt his anger rubber band in his shoulders, making him roll his neck to work it out. Fili sounded like a child mouthing off to him rather than an adult with a beef.  People don’t like to break illusions, no matter the cost they will hold on to the absolute lie of it until their fingers break.  He had never gotten beyond thinking of Fili and Kili as naughty children.  First Kili, now Fili was getting uppity

“I was at the Ironworks already since you brought it up.  I found Dain nosing around my office.  What the fuck gives that bastard the right to go through my things?”  Fili drew a deep breath to barrel on before Thorin could respond. The younger’s blue eyes flickered like a natural gas flame. “I’ve tolerated enough of that annoying ass licker but he knew were the line was. Dain would haven’t dared that shit unless he thought he could get away with it.”

Thorin knew nothing about their cousin’s snooping but went on the attack just the same. “He owns a percentage in the Ironworks.  He has the right to investigate it’s progress.”

“The yellow bastard does not own so much that he can riffle through my desk!  If he has time to sneak around, he can have his fat ass out on the street to help protect his investment.”   

Thorin privately agreed, however, now wasn’t the time to tell Fili he was right.  No, the Ironfoot was a problem that he had let go for too long.  The mass production would start on the Mithril project just as soon as they found enough of the raw ore.  If Dain tried to undercut or worse, engage in a little industrial espionage, everything they had worked for would go up in smoke.  Smaug might as well come on in and take over.

The worry over this news distracted him. Thorin didn’t realize that it was this bad, yet it opened up a new can of worms. Letting his guard down at that moment was a mistake that cost him. He hadn’t realized that Fili was so pissed until the boy lunged for his uncle, sending Thorin flying. The air shrilled over his ears as the head of Durin’s Folk MC fell in a slow wave to parquet floor. Amidst the yelling, the Oakenshield smacked the ground, the force stealing his breath. Fili continued the motion, leaping atop his uncle; Thorin thrashed, shoving against his barrel chest. Expletives flew through the air with the same stench as rotten apples as the combatants scrambled to be on top. The two men gasped for breath, rolling and punching the other. Fili finally won the toss, snaring one of the flailing arms, using his boot to pin the other.  

Thorin wretched his hips, throwing his leg up to kick Fili in the back of his head.  The blond moved at the last minute, knowing that it was coming.  The Oakenshield wanted to feel pride that the boy had learned something but he was still pinned to the floor with his best surprise maneuver grazing Fili’s ear to bounce of his shoulder.  He relaxed his right hand, able to slip it past the boot that was digging into his wrist. Thorin punched his nephew in the inner thigh while his knee slammed into Fili’s lower back. The blonde grunted, slumping forward in pain so near his groin.  His nephew batted away Thorin’s attempt to punch Fili in the side of the head, only to slam the heel of his hand into Thorin’s mouth.

The Oakenshield’s head slammed back on the grained floor with a snap, making his thoughts twirl out of his head.  Stunned, he rousted himself enough to throw Fili off and land a punch in the kidneys as the boy fell sideways.  The spinning sensation intensified when he snaked forward enough to slam a meaty fist into his nephew’s jaw to completely knock him back.  Mildly out of it, Thorin had no counter for the foot that slapped into the side of his head to pop his eardrum.  

“Enough!”

Both fighters froze in tableau, breathing through their mouths from the exertion.  It had been years since someone had gotten Thorin down like that which just pissed him off more.  Looking at Balin’s red face, he realized that for once, he might have gone too far.

“The enemy is out there! Our friends are dying!” Balin pushed the others out of the way to get close to them. “Get your heads together and forget Dain!”

Thorin looked at his nephew as he struggled to his feet.  The boy wasn’t budging, so this wasn’t over.  The stinging pain of a bloody lip shocked him into awareness.  There was something wrong with him to push the way he had.  There was a festering problem that made him nettle the boy who had been like a son all of his life.

Thorin whipped away the blood when the door opened to admit a slightly winded Tauriel as she stalked into the open kitchen.  She took one look around at the assembled taking a particular joyous note of Thorin’s bleeding face and smiled. “Ohh!  Someone press replay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Dee for helping me get some of these chapters handled.. Much love to you dearest!
> 
> Yes, Thorin is being an alpha jerk..Its going to hit him hard that what he is doing isn't right at all. I needed a vehicle to explain the Thorin angst and Gold Sickness wasn't going to work in a modern setting.


	21. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 18th.. 8:10 pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel's POV

 

Her body twitched a little, phantom aches and some not so imaginary, slipping into the foreground of her thoughts.  The kata warmed her muscles in the way a good hot shower could. She was getting to the point where her body fat was mostly gone, leaving a lean mean fighting machine that kicked over a mountain like it was an ant hill. She had never been fat, but there were more hollows than padding on her bones. The black BDU pants felt a little looser now, enabling her to use a tighter notch on her web belt. The pullover gapped a little more under the arms and at the neck.  Kili would sure complain a little when he finally arrived.  Knowing her love the way she did, he would be baking cakes just to get her roundness back.

Tauriel walked briskly to the Ironworks from the Durin’s House, hitching her bag a little higher.  Sigrid was with Dis in the Courtyard and hopefully Fili would join them. The horribleness that brewed between uncle and nephew had finally blazed into violence. All the anger of the last weeks had dried out their patience in each other until it took but a spark to ignite a fight.  Tauriel pulled her phone from her pocket, swiping away the pic of Kili on her screen. Her love was concerned about the lack of communication from Fili. If he knew of what happened tonight, nothing, not a threat of his own life could stop Kili from coming home.  Thorin and Fili needed to get beyond the petty shit, because infighting would only rip this family apart even more than it already has.

Shaking off the doom and gloom was hard. Turning her thoughts from the Durinsons, Tauriel reviewed about possible scenarios for attacking that moving truck tonight. Mentally, she ran though the list of Durin’s folk she might prevail upon to join as she walked the gravel trail. Fili had done well, but there was no need for him to tag along tonight. His head wasn’t on straight after the display earlier.  Tauriel couldn’t ask Bofur, wouldn’t consider taking him from his family.  Distance would be good, maybe Stone with his crossbow?  She had texted Beorn when she got up, making sure that he was still game for more blood.  The response was singular and affirmative.

The Courtyard lay to the south of her position as she broke through the tree line for the Ironworks’ parking lot.  Smoke wavered from the chimneys, indications of which house was occupied and which wasn’t. The Luin brothers recently took a cabin in the courtyard rather than staying in town.  The extra layer of security wasn’t missed by anyone now that they were completely in the soup of a war.  She hadn’t heard of any escalation of violence in Dale but that didn’t mean there had not been more incidents.  Bard would most likely been in touch, just not with Sigrid.  She would have to work on that at the first opportunity.

The slap crunch of her boots in the dusting snow was familiar. The evening was beating back the encroaching night as spring tried to gain a hold upon New Hampshire.  Their world turned making for longer days and shorter nights.  It would be warmer soon, never hot as it was in lower states and certainly not before until the end of May.  Mother Nature was capacious in her earthly gifts.

The building hummed with activity, workers at their machines and presses to fill their daily quotas. Flashes of light mixed with the razored whine of grinders and clanging of sharp hard surfaces against the other.  The heat of the molten steel in the back coated her as she closed the door, making her clothes feel constricting. The air smelled of burning metal, sweat and curiosity. Tauriel stayed out of the building when it was in full swing or tried so far in an attempt to keep a low profile. Several of the employees watched her before turning back to their jobs, taking notice but saying little. They all knew who she was, knew what she was to the Durinsons.

The bustle was normal or it looked to be in her untrained opinion. Dwalin was in charge of the security but they would need to step it up if they had not already.  Smaug could easily use this place as a means of revenge. It wasn’t the main source of income for the Durinsons, but the loss of life would be staggering. She gave a cursory look around at the placement of people, how they worked, what they did.  No doubt, one of the lesser paid or passed over disgruntled would be a willing recruit for the Red Dragon. A few shape charges in the large vats or in the compressed air or gas tanks would blow this place like the fourth of July.

Tauriel rounded a corner, making for the unoccupied breakroom that held her weapons. The marked yellow lines in the concrete floor designated a “safe zone” for people to walk in the shifting factory commotion. Forklifts carried completed girders, moving the lengths out to the warehouse. Passing though the cordoned stations, she could see that the breakroom lights at the end were off. Taking out the keys from her pocket, Tauriel gave a second look around the place before going inside dark room. Flipping switches on one by one, she walked across to the black cases lined against the wall like good little foot soldiers.

The haze of the evening splashed reds and purples against the windows. The bound kinetic energy of the coming night rippled in the stillness, forcing her into battle mode.  Tauriel popped the lock on the far case, getting an idea as she unpacked. She pulled two small boxes from the bottom of the weapon’s containers.  Looking at the non-descript case, she put them both aside to repack her inventory.  Conservation was the key from now on.  Tauriel had expended a goodly set of the armaments Grey Company had shipped to her, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think that they would send more.

Tauriel knew she would have to find alternative means of fighting. The more explosives she used in an area of the New Hampshire that was reported not to allow guns, the more notice and attention it would bring. Seriously, they didn’t need attention, didn’t want the advertisement. This war could be settled quickly if their enemy had his limbs removed and the flowing blood of his operation interrupted.  Tauriel pondered the ins and outs that she had learned so far.  The more she thought forward, the more troubled she became.

Smaug had his own armory, stockpiling for his own apocalypse of Durin’s Folk.  It was definitely going to get worse before it got better. If he was as smart about collecting as her intel said, there could be stores underground at Mount Gundabad or Dol Guldur.  Maybe the off tunnels of Moria that Frerin explored, deep underground with limited access since Drake had taken over the Silvertine. There would be no end of pain and death awaiting them in that long dark, so much worse than taking his house. Regardless, Tauriel knew she would have to find out and soon.

A knocked sounded at the door, a tapped warning before it opened to reveal her cousin strolling inside. “I came to help.”

Tauriel smiled. Nileth brushed her as she walked by, carrying a bundled set of knives that she must have pulled from Erebor’s clubhouse. The MC had a bunker under the bar that housed the bulk of their weapons.  The willowy Silvan rolled out the pouch full of metal on the table. Tactical blades about eight inches long gleamed in the stale phosphorescent lighting.  Well cared for, she decided to use those rather than her own. There were sets of broadheads too, non-incendiary. Tauriel took a clear box of packed razor tips for later use.

 It was in the back of her mind to ask her cousin if she wanted to come tonight but then she thought the better of it.  Nileth possessed a good mind for tactics along with her Shodan, a first level of blackbelt in Judoka.  She was quickly earning her place here, finding her own niche.  Tauriel knew she was coming from Mrs. Lombard’s house, trying to help get the kids fed. Bofur had taken a bed to be on hand in case his brother’s widow needed anything.  Any enmity between the two had been buried at Bombur’s death.

Tauriel breathed deeply and let it out.  She tried the exercise one more time just to make sure she was getting it right.  Putting a hand on her neck, her pulse throbbed under her finger tips, a sign of life. Yet, Tauriel felt disconnected. Almost like she was inside someone else’s body. As though it wasn’t her standing there, but another person. So much death and destruction at her hand, all that blood under her nails.  Closing her eyes, she tried the breathing again to find some middle ground with her host. 

A crazy thought had circled her brain drain before she lay down to sleep this morning. It was stupid really, a fragmented part of her that was still small and vulnerable to the hurts in the world. What would happen when Kili finally arrived?  What would _he_ see? As if all the blood she had spilled for his family was etched upon her pale skin, a kind of gory black death count that was worse than a scarlet letter. Tauriel knew she held his heart, she knew, and yet a wary, wounded part of her worried he’d change his mind one day, find her no longer worthy of his love.

Nileth flowed around the room with a grace that was better reserved for a ballroom than a fight ring, breaking up her moments of doubt.  Tauriel found herself envying her cousin that grace, wondering if she might have had that same promise in her DNA once upon a time. The jeans and yellow flannel didn’t detract from her beauty, giving her a simple elegance that could turn even the most jaded. 

“What?”  Nileth asked when she caught Tauriel staring. Her smile was brightly encouraging.

“Thank you for this. I want you to know how much I appreciate you being here.” She placed a few of the exploding heads on the table with the shafts to be assembled.

“That’s what family is for, cousin.”

Tauriel couldn’t look at her and not cry at this moment. The warmth of her cousin surrounded her, much in the same way that Sigrid and Fili did. It was so much more than the rifts of violence that coursed between Thorin and the rest of the Durinsons. In a word, it was a true familial feeling.  It was still something that was new and different in her life.  Since freeing herself from Thranduil, she could make the strides that could build that bridge into the estranged parts of her life.  No, she and Nileth and Glanwen didn’t have the shared childhood memories but that didn’t mean there could be no memories at all.

Stone and Nori trooped inside, sniggering quietly over something. Stone brought his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder with a full quiver attached. Tauriel retracted into herself, pulling away from any emotional display before the pair. Quickly, she screwed the lengths together, stashing the exploding heads in the bag to take along.  They had seen her kill, destroy, seeing her mushy would devolve their thinking.  Tauriel knew she wasn’t a hard ass, but she needed to keep control over the things that could break her concentration.

Fili and Dwalin sniped at each other, raising the body count in the room. They would mostly likely to try and register unnecessary opinions. It had been a regular thing with these people to have no real structure and lots of hot air. The last few months in Paris reminded her of Mirkwood in a lot of ways. Grey Company’s hierarchy, their belief system was a meritocracy.  Everyone contributed but not to a degree where they got so pissed out of shape if they thought no one was listening. Former private military and individual operators with so many alpha personalities had made their company work; so why couldn’t the Durinsons?

Her soon to be brother had a crooked smile for her as a contrast to Dwalin’s scowl.  No doubt, the tattooed Neanderthal blamed her in some small way for the fight at the house tonight. Tauriel couldn’t help but notice that Thorin hadn’t followed them to the Ironworks tonight even though he knew what she had planned. Wrapping up the last of her preparations, she surmised that it was a good thing.

Tauriel rolled out a map that Nileth handed to her. “Ok. Beorn is coming to pick me up soon. This is what we know. There is a transport truck with three guards coming down the Easterling Road from Dorwinion.  The cargo is unknown. It changes weekly based upon Drake’s orders.  Bilbo said that they take the Easterling then Woodland highway to make the delivery to Mount Gundabad rather than circle through Dale.”

Everyone shifted closer to watch Tauriel’s finger trace the route. Dwalin muscled his way closer, lightly pressing Ori who had snuck in, closer to Stone.  The Head of Erebor Security bent low to the table looking at the map in reverse.  The smell of tobacco and sweat wavered the two feet between them to claw at her senses, making her nose squelch in disgust.  On Kili, the same odor was might be appealing; on Dwalin, it wasn’t.  Tauriel shook her head to clear out thoughts of what Dwalin ate that made his sweat so repugnant.

“How do you know it isn’t a trap?” The big man asked finally as he drew away.

Nileth raised her head to stare for a minute then looked to Nori at her side. Tauriel observed each face in turn, folding her arms behind her. “I don’t and it very well could be.  If Smaug remembers that Bilbo knows about this shipment, it might be a whole group of Orcs and Spiders lying in wait in the back.  But it’s worth the risk.”

Dwalin crossed his arms over his large chest, staring down at the map with the same disgruntled expression.  It was hard to read so Tauriel looked to Fili for help.  The blond just looked annoyed, almost adopting the same posture.

Not sure of what they were thinking, she proposed the idea. “We need to cut into his supply line, but also their bases. Is there some way we can knock out their communications there?  I doubt many people are using their garage lately.”

It was a guess on her part. However, it was doubtful anyone had used the Spider’s garage in Dol Guldor for repairs. They had never possessed the best reputation anyway for the work they performed.  The Spider Gang’s hideout occupied the Attic part of a storage warehouse located behind the shop and parts yard.  If Smaug built into a mountain, the Spiders could have dung cellars and underground caches.

“You don’t want to blow it up too?” Dwalin asked snidely. 

Tauriel straightened at the remark, giving him a sigh and a shake of her head.  Dwalin had become one of her biggest detractors, more vocal about her abilities from what Fili had said.  Everyone was staying on their phones, texting the latest rumor or remark as they hunkered down in their homes. Facebook, Twitter, every social media was being utilized to keep people up to date.  Words like vigilante, wild card, and murderer were becoming very popular amongst those who didn’t come to Erebor often. Wives, husbands, and children who didn’t know her personally all, had an opinion.  No wonder she was having self-esteem issues.  

“Not yet, but I don’t want them comfortable.” Tauriel looked directly at the Tattooed man. “Do you know anyone with the March Sentries?  They would have been keeping a close eye on that place and might give up some intel.”

Tauriel watched Dwalin as she picked out her knives from the pack Nileth had brought with her. She strapped a short sword at her back, adding another knife to the belt clip.  Her quiver, already in the bag, would be at her lower left side for a cross body draw.  It was faster for her instead of pulling from the shoulder.  Tauriel could fight ambidextrously but always favored her right side.

“I’ll kick over a few rocks and see what slithers out.” Dwalin grumbled as he left.

Tauriel zipped up her bag, pulling her Winwin bow to hold it by the riser. She hadn’t needed the practice rounds with it based on all the activity lately.  It was still sweet to hold the familiar grips in her hand, the muscle memory was still there. Flipping the bow strings up, she bounced the weapon against her thigh.

The others began to disperse, thinking that the meeting was over. Tauriel handed a pack of the incendiary tips to Stone as he looked over the map. There was a comically distinct look of fear on his face as took them. Dain’s boy wasn’t dumb, he nodded pulling his crossbow to remove the bolts and swape the heads. No words, just actions.  Thorin “Stonehelm” was becoming an interesting fixture to their motley crew. Ori fluttered around Stone who began to add a few knives from the bundle to his own gear.  She passed him extra razor heads just in case. Tauriel couldn’t offer any guarantees to the youngest MacDurin, no matter who much she wished.  He kept flashing her fearful glances as Stone finished his own prep and gave her a smile that he was ready.

Beorn didn’t expect her to bring others, though the additional hands might not hurt. He hadn’t been very forthcoming about who he was bringing. She was fighting for Durin’s folk; it just make sense to her to being them along and let them feel included. Taking out her phone she fired off a few texts to the Russian bear that she was bringing company. 

Nileth took her bar stool in the corner, a place to see everyone and everything.  She straddled the seat in a most unladylike pose, rather than cross one leg over the other in a semblance of decorum.  Durin’s Folk was rubbing off on her too.

“I can fight.” There were contusions on Fili’s face suggested otherwise. She had seen relief maps of mountain ranges with fewer bumps.

She couldn’t brush him off and waltz out the door.  Fili planted himself with the same stubbornness Tauriel had seen in his brother. The redhead sighed before pulling him into a one armed hug.  Fili’s arms pulled her just as close, the solid pact of his body just as muscular as Kili’s. Normally, Tauriel would be on the fringe but as she was the instigator of this, she was front and center for the fall out. 

“No, I’m taking Stone tonight.” She told him as she drew away. His face morphed into exasperated frown.

The Durinson’s head popped up from the water cooler; a cup of water halfway to his mouth. Stone obviously expected the screaming match that was coming and wanted a good show. Nori looked at him then back at everyone else in the room. There was a brisling aspect to his posture that reminded Tauriel of cat that had been stroked the wrong way.

“So what the hell's wrong with _me_?" Nori stalked around the other side of the table in frustrated strides. The long tail of hair swished across his back in irregular snaps.

"Besides your deviant moral flexibility and severe phobia of emotional commitment?" Nileth asked as she calmly watched from her perch with an infectious grin. Not much rattled her but Nori could shake her smile lose faster than dirty limericks.

"We were discussing my faults, madam, not my virtues," Nori said dismissively.

Tauriel just shook her head at the back and forth banter.  Doing the last mental run though of her gear, she concluded that there was no reason in her opinion to pack a lot.  There would be three in the cab at most, as long as they were not expecting a strike.  There were no escorts as far as Bilbo knew.  Anyone taking the truck had to deal with the occupants who were highly trained to repel an attack.  Watching the interaction that was unfolding in the corner cousin and the very hairy MacDurin, a sneak thief would be a good second hander. 

“Nori can come if he wants.”  Her voice cut through the ruckus. “We might need someone who fights a little dirty.”

“There’s no such thing as fighting dirty. There’s fighting like you want to live, like the next breath is your last.” Nori picked up Nileth’s hand to kiss her finger tips. “The people you love will thank you for it.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as the sneak thief’s attempt at romancing her cousin. He had apparently listened to the advice before they had hit Drake’s house, not wasting any time. By the gooey eyes that the tall auburn woman was giving him, it was spot on.  The pair separated themselves for a few moments, stepping back to talk softly. Tonight, Nori was a different person with Nileth, letting go a little of the tightly bound suspicion that set him apart.

“I’m going too.” Fili started but Tauriel interrupted.

“Take the breather. You did above and beyond last night.” She advanced down the table with Fili still on her heels while Stone gave her a look and walked out with his arm around Ori.  Tauriel stopped Fili before he could speak again, making sure to speak low for some privacy. “You don’t have to go every night, Fili. This is a milk run. You need to stay the night with Sigrid.  Get the Dain and Thorin shit out of your head; sort yourself out.  Call Kili and talk to him.”

The blue eyes found hers with an expression akin to frustration. “Just don’t tell him what you are doing. I get it.” Fili sighed when he continued. “Keep the stitches dry.”

Tauriel’s phone beeped at her side.  She pulled out the device to swipe it open. “Beorn is outside.  Nori, Stone, let’s go.”

They filed out, stomping their way from the building.  Tauriel turned back to make sure that everything in the breakroom was secure, that there was no access to the cases.  Fili pocketed the keys before falling into step with her. There was silence between them, louder than falling night. His stiff posture told the story of a man who hated to be excluded in life.  Dain and Thorin had no idea the treasure that was Fili and Kili.  Thorin particularly sickened her with his stupidity.

Beorn picked them up just outside Ironworks’ main gates. He hadn’t asked for entry, letting the SUV idle.  He hadn’t brought the Hummer this time, but a plan dark green Ford Excursion.  If he had any objections to Nori and Stone, it didn’t show. There were two of his men already in the far back seat, looking out the side windows with alert expressions. Tauriel pushed her pack into the floorboard as she took shotgun.  There were no tearful goodbyes, only a wave and a smile.  She wasn’t being lax in her plans to leave Fili and others at home.  At least, that was what she told herself when she closed the truck door.

They were quiet during the drive.  Mountain road wasn’t the deserted place it might have been a week ago.  There were cars parked off the road with their lights off.  Durin’s Folk MC had called in a few favors to get other charters to run security up and down the road. Dwalin would have told of Beorn’s coming or he would never have made it to the gates without being shredded.

Thick smell of aggression rolled in the air currents, making her uneasy. Not out of fear for herself, but what they were bringing to the ambush tonight.  She had asked Fili to stay behind because of his fight with Thorin. Getting into the Hummer with three men barely contained might not have been the best idea.

The headlights cut into the night, splitting a path over the asphalt.  The Lake was to her right before she realized, the visceral liquidity no different from the land itself. Pinpricks of light dotted the far bank, reminding her that Lake Town was not so far away.  Master’s house at the lakeside would be gearing up for the tourist season unless someone finally started reporting the violent crimes that were being committed in Rhovanion County.

The forest had the same feeling, a spooky wall of obsidian that was darker in the night sky.  Black bare trees frosted with ice, the fields before them were empty and glitteringly hard. Remembering the camera placements, Tauriel counted off the intervals until they met the turn off to Mirkwood. Headlights briefly blinded her as another SUV fell in behind them.  Beorn mashed the accelerator, picking up speed as they barreled down Woodland Highway.  Tauriel and Nori looked back but two Beornlings didn’t seem worried. The MacDurin gave her a look, a moment of concern before settling back into his seat.

“Friends of yours?”  She asked as her eyes flickered to the big man behind the wheel before she faced the windshield once more. The curved leather hugged at her body, making it difficult to move without her weapons digging to flesh.

“The second team.”  His gruff reply took up space in the harsh still.

“I didn’t ask. How was your man who was wounded?” There was a stirring in the seats behind her, though she didn’t look over her shoulder.

She watched his gaze flicker to the two in the far back, his hands tightening on the wheel.  A feeling of dread slipped down her spine as she waited for an answer that she almost certain knew.  Tauriel rubbed a hand over her pants, not because they were suddenly damp but to have something do with them in the silence.

Beorn exhaled long, shifting in the seat. “He died.”

More death, she thought. “I’m sorry.”

It was a pitiful thing to say, however Beorn acknowledged it with a nod.  The man had died in a cause that was not of his own.  Beorn’s crusade was just that, his personal war.  Tauriel didn’t know the Russian’s name, only let the knowledge fuel her resolve to see this through.  Stone murmured to the men behind them, giving his own condolences.  The mood shifted from yellow charged with purpose to grey with remorse.  We spend so much of their lives waiting to be ambushed by death, Tauriel thought as she turned to the window. Why can't we be ambushed by joy? Just once?

“We need a set up point.”  Medved’s voice shattered the thick atmosphere.

The Russian spat directions to the two in the far back. One of the men immediately dialed a phone, speaking in rapid tones. Tauriel marked the speeding landscape, doing a few mental calculations.

“We can pull off at the road in the East Bight.  There is enough of a lip between the road and the forest.  Thranduil has a camera system there, but there are few places in the forest that he doesn’t. It’s about a mile or so coming up on the right.”

There was little point in hiding.  Thranduil probably already knew of this little enterprise, thanks to Bilbo.  She wasn’t sure what the burglar told to Glanwen when she called Frodo. Yet, an information exchange was not amiss at this point.  Anything that brought Thranduil to the table to help was useful.

They pulled off the highway, driving into the field across the access ditch. The East Bight was an odd indenture in an otherwise oval shaped bottom of the Mirkwood forest.  On the maps, it looked like something took a bite out of the green edging, leaving an irregular tree line.  Nothing really took root there, despite efforts over the years to the contrary.

The SUV mowed down some of the taller weeds and saplings, crunching them down into the ground. The high beams panned into the Bight, illuminating the brown grasses that filled out the plain. Beorn pulled to a stop, putting the vehicle in gear but leaving it running.  There wasn’t much traffic on the highway after sundown in winter, especially this winter.  The squeal of brakes announced the arrival of the second vehicle, stopping between Beorn’s side and the road.

A tall blond man leapt out of the back seat, making Tauriel’s eyebrows shoot to her hair line.  This was the last person she expected to see here. He walked with the same fluid elegance that an accomplished martial trained individual might display. Loose and relaxed, his stride wasn’t quick but ground eating nevertheless.

“Haldir?”  What was a senior March Sentry doing on raid against Smaug?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened to this chapter.. it was moving along fine... doing what it do.. then I looked down and it was 8000 on the word count. I try to keep everything between 4000 -6000... so some editing had to come into play.
> 
> I really want to find Haldir a someone... just not Tauriel...But he dies in Two Towers.. so his chances of survival aren't good here..


	22. The Shipment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 18th 9:38 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel's POV... 
> 
> Warning for Bloody fighting

“Going my way?” Haldir asked when he reached them. Three other Beorlings left the SUV, joining their boss to one side.

Tauriel managed to get her jaw off the ground about the same time Nori and Stone caught up with her.  She felt more than saw them at her back.  It was reassuring in a situation she didn’t fully understand yet. Wary was just another word on her long list tonight.

“What’s your way, blond man?”  Stone asked Haldir with a tone that could be construed as less than cordial to the thinner skinned people of the world. 

Beorn snorted from the side as he joined them, completely ignoring the undercurrents.  Nori didn’t have any liking for the man, Stone even less.  The Bear hadn’t mentioned they would have company from Caras Galladhon, not on the phone nor on the drive.  Tauriel knew something was off with the big Russian but marked it down as the loss of one of his own.  Haldir’s grinning face left her puzzled.  Puzzled wasn’t a favorite pastime of hers.

Haldir strapped on his quiver, a black tactical over the shoulder for a quick pull.  The quiver held about eleven carbide arrows with black fletchings rather than the standard green shafts that he would use at his work.  It smelled clandestine, off books, and entirely wrong for what she had known of the March Sentrys in the past.

His smile turned into a smirk as he pulled the web rig holding his saber and knife tight around his waist.  “Where ever an Orc or a Spider needs killing.”

Seeing him here, in plain clothes didn’t ring any nostalgia bells for her, they had never been that close, never fought together.  She knew better years ago than to engage him in hand to hand, never wanting anyone to see all of her skills.  He had challenged her a time or two, but not seriously for which she was grateful.  Haldir was a good fighter, just not in her class.  It would have taken his pride to find that out that truth.

For a March Sentry, he wasn’t tall nor did he concede to vanity and wear lifts.  His boots were utilitarian as were his dark brown BDUs and a patterned shirt peaked out from the top of his fitted jacket.  There were no emblems of his office on his coat, nothing to say where he belonged. His blond hair queued back from his face.  He didn’t stamp his feet or blow on his hands to keep warm, though she was nearly chilled after exposure of standing still in high thirty degree temperature without gloves. 

Comparing him to the rest was hilarious.  Beorn and his men were in shades of dark gray to black.  Tauriel herself was in head to toe black but probably could have gone with more muted browns since they would be out in the open. Her fitted jacket was streamlined to hug her figure rather than defining it.  Nori and Stone were in dark jeans with dark thick water resistant hunting gear.  It wasn’t camo’d up but a dark harsh tan that would blend into with the dead grass.

“Won’t the Lady of Lorien object to this?”  Tauriel asked her old friend as Beorn turned to give instructions to another Beornling.

She knew that there things in this world that she didn’t want to cross; Haldir’s boss who was the president of the University was of those things. Sensing her meaning, the blond looked away. Though Haldir was broader and half a head taller, he was the one who shifted uncomfortably. Tauriel knew she had struck a nerve with the question, letting the words hang in the air between them.  Whatever his relationship was with Galadriel now, it had been very involved years ago. The Lady wouldn’t like to lose one of her favorites to carelessness.

“She sent me to Mirkwood, hoping Thranduil could see what is in front of him. The Orcs are getting bold in Lothlorien while Thranduil does nothing to our northeast.” Haldir’s eyes flashed in the gloom. “We would have peace again inside our town borders.”

“So she knows that you are here?” Tauriel pressed, needing him to say the words. “Galadriel approved of this?”

He tapped out his weight in one foot then another, making Nori snort behind her. His green eyes flashed at the MacDurin. “Celeborn knows, he will tell her later.”

“Well, don’t get yourself killed.” She muttered ruefully, rolling her eyes. “We can’t have Caras Galadhon losing one of their best.”

At this, Haldir looked at her blatantly and paused again. Really looked at her. Almost like he finally saw her for what she was. Like he thought understood her and maybe he did. It was an innocent statement on her part, something she might have said to anyone of the Durin’s Folk without the sparking of attention from them. Tauriel learned from men in France that they looked all the time, thought they could size her up in a minute. She knew that expression on his face, a look that said so much more than words could… and yet.  For all his physical beauty, it did nothing for her. She didn’t care about any of that shit. Haldir was a handsome man, but he wasn’t her black haired archer.

She walked away from him, exasperated. Stone and Nori stayed behind, engaging Haldir and the others while she stomped over to the big Russian.  Tauriel had so many grievances bound together when it came to other men, the last thing she needed was another male sniffing at her heels.  Beorn had backed off the overt flirting, seeing that she wasn’t taking the hint.  Now, Haldir was having a mid-life epiphany in the middle of her godsdamned war! It was flooding men in Tauriel Land when it had been an arid desert for years untold.

Beorn slapped a map on the hood of the SUV, pulling out a mini flashlight. The bulb cast a shadow but not a direct beam. She leaned over the map with him, searching for possible target areas. The rough scratches on the map denoted the Wilderlands, nothing more than Tauriel already knew.  Unimpressive, underdeveloped, it was owned by a collective group that also invested in the vineyards near Dorwinion. If they thought to make another Napa Valley here, they were in for a disappointment. Medved and Tauriel hummed and looked the paper over, yet nothing gave her any ideas.  A low buzz of voices reached them, reminded her that time was counting down.  Beorn looked over the map one last time, snarling before he switched off the LED flashlight.  The red eye winked out immediately, letting the black envelop them once more.

“Why is Haldir really here, Beorn?”  Tauriel hating tiptoeing around subjects. Getting problems out in the open where they can be dealt all worked the best for her.

The large man at her left grunted as he stowed the flashlight in a side pocket.  He took a deep breath and released it, watching his men with the Sentry. “He made good argument. I do not have much love for those of Caras Galadhon, nor this Lady. They are greedy and blind, blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than themselves, like Oakenshield... But Orcs, I hate more.”

“Galadriel’s tough, no doubt about it. Rather have her as a friend than an enemy.”

Beorn shrugged again, the ripple of those giant shoulders and its muscles possessed the same kinetic energy as an ocean wave.  Large and square, his mind was utterly focused on destruction.  She could tell it by the grim set of his lips and snapping twitch of his fingers.  His close friendship with her mother aside, Tauriel felt the need to say something, to let him know that she could be a confidante rather than a lover. Good friendships are durable. They're meant to survive the gaps and the growing pains. Even death.  She wanted to be the kind of person that people turned too if they were in need.  It was far and away from the painfully shy woman she had been last year. 

She laid a hand on his to get his attention. Beorn looked down at her hand upon his sleeve as if surprised that Tauriel might dare so much. “We haven’t known each other long and while you sometimes come off very … _intense_.” She smiled over the word as her fingers tightened on his tattooed wrist. “I know that you cared for my mother. I’m not Merethen, but I have an ear if you need it.”

“You are not her. Stronger, with more fire in you.” He said at last, shifting away. Tauriel’s hand still tethered him to her. “I have much love for her to this day, no matter that Merry did not love me.” Beorn patted her hand before he removed it when he caught a glimpse of Nori easing to them in the dark. “I dishonor that love if I try to make you into her. I give you friendship, Tauriel, never my thoughts and feelings.” 

A barrier slammed down between them, emotionally solid in the way that somethings can’t be. Tauriel could glean from those words alone that Beorn would be there for her, be her friend, but the days of him coming onto her were over.  Not because he lost one of his men; it was an acceptance.  It was etched on his face that he felt alone, was lonely and there was no cure in his future. Tauriel nodded to show that she understood, taking a step back while he opened up the space between them more by gesturing to the group to join in.

Nori took her back while Stone crowded her into Beorn’s left.  Haldir wore a pinched expression for a moment.  He clearly had no way of processing the flanking maneuver that her two Durin bodyguards had decided. Tauriel leaned into Dain’s son, crossing her arms behind her back to wait out the discussion. Nori handed her his gloves when he noticed Tauriel flexing her fingers, earning him a smile.

“To the east, there is dip that only shows on topographical maps. While this is wrong place for ambush, they will have their guard down against it.”  Beorn pointed in the distance. “Five miles to set point. Nica and Pavel will take second SUV east to wait truck after drop off Tauriel. Once truck passes you, follow it. No lights.”  The big Russian pointed southwest to the curve of the Forest. “Haldir and I will wait to south. We will catch it if it slips by Tauriel.” 

The problem with the Wilderlands was the flat prairie waved out for miles. Only a few stands of trees here and there broke up the brown sea of nothingness. Anything man made, hides or camo, would stick out even at night as odd bumps in the landscape. They had speed and surprise on their side. It was worth something. Shaking her head, Tauriel realized she needed to adjust her thinking. No general ever won a victory by pitting his weaknesses against the enemy’s strengths.   

“What if it’s a trap and the cargo bed is loaded with Orcs?” Stone asked, obviously remembering their earlier discussion.

“We will use the incendiaries for distance and blow the truck off the road. But the explosions will definitely wake the neighbors.”  Tauriel looked to Beorn for his thoughts.

Beorn spoke rapidly to the bearded one she assumed to be Nico, gesturing in something complex on his hand. The Beornling wore a confused look, before staring down at his feet.  His tone as he answered was questioning, puzzled.  Medved snapped something more, his tone clipped.  Whatever the big man told his subordinate clicked because a light of compression rose on the furry face.

“Nico has place to drop you that will be good for ambush.  They will be behind truck to hold off fight until we arrive if it’s trap.”

Seeing an opportunity, the blond took a step forward.  Tauriel almost groaned out loud, gripping her hand in the other where no one save Nori might see. Haldir bore his eagerness gently, earnestly.  He was here to help, Tauriel reminded herself, being nasty wouldn’t win her any friends.

“I have better aim.” Haldir interjected as his attention swung from her to Medved and back again.

Stone bullied his way in front.  It was comical that he was as tall as he was where his father’s height left a lot to be desire.  As different as he was from his father physically, they were polar opposites in their thinking.

“ _I’m_ going with Tauriel!” Thorin pointed to her with a smile. “You need a keeper to watch over you.” He paused, face twisting with displeasure. “I sound like Dori.” 

“There are worse things.” Nori grumbled from the back.

Haldir went to argue but Beorn held up his hand to stave off the argument that was coming.  It would take more time and in the end, Tauriel would have Nori and Stone with her anyway. They were used to her brand of chaos and wouldn’t try to get in the way. Plus, the last thing she wanted was to be hunkered down somewhere waiting for the truck and Haldir trying to be romantic in her ear. It was exactly what he had planned too, based upon his infuriated expression.

“You need to be closer to Caras Galadhon in case something happens.” Tauriel reasoned. “You might not wear your badge of office, but you’re known to many people. Plus, Spiders might try to come from Dol Guldor. Beorn could use your bow there on that end of the road.”

Haldir looked peeved, running his hand along the quiver strap that held it against his body.  Long moments passed while the March Sentry came to the conclusion that others were forcing on him.  He didn’t like, the disgruntled noises said as much. In the end, he got in the SUV with Beorn while Tauriel, Nori and Stone piled in the other. One of Medved’s men decided to join them at the last minute, bringing their tally to six with four in the other Excursion. 

Tauriel squeezed into the back seat with Nori and Stone while the Russians occupied the front and back portions.  She felt the vehicle lurch into speed, turning left to take the eastern track.  Dorwinion was a small hamlet, not unlike Carrock. It was a veritable waystation for cross traffic on the side of major highway. Easterling road connected Woodland Highway with the Rhun, a large lake that formed the county of the same name’s eastern border. Rhun county was not as friendly with its neighbors, catering to a more expensive cliental.  The lake houses and vineyard subdivisions were unsurpassed.

Nico behind the wheel began spouted whole phrases in Russian, aggravating her to no end. She quickly pulled what she might need from her bag, handing it the Beornlings behind her.  The driver pointed to left side of the road then the right, continuing to talk in a language she didn’t understand.   It was frustrating that Beorn hadn’t come or at least Grimbeorn.  They, at least, could speak English or made the effort too where the Beornlings didn’t.  The vehicle slowed to a stop, taking the right shoulder of the road. 

The Beornling behind Tauriel handed her a pair of Army issue night vision binoculars and a radio as they exited the SUV. Turning the NVGs on, she scanned the geography quickly but trying to avoid the red tail lights of the Excursion. Hopefully, they had a kill switch that would disable the tail lights so if they had to break coming up behind the truck, the driver wouldn’t notice the sudden appearance of red in his rearview. The Beornlings pulled away, accelerating down the long road.  The black night swallowed SUV after a few minutes, leaving them alone to wait.

There was a small rise to the east with good cover. Two thick trucked trees twined themselves at the top with some brush at the base.  On their side of the road was a small cluster of bushes about a quarter of a mile away.   Acres of saw grass and brambles covered the terrain, waving stiffly in the green light. A harsh wall of darkness rose to block her view from seeing further, trees if she had to guess.  Two pairs of eyes glittered in the viridian night before it, a doe and a large fawn feeding.

Tauriel handed the Inferno tip in its protected container to Stone then pointed to a small rise on the other side of the road. “Take position there. I need you to fire the arrow at the front quarter panel on your side.  I will hit the driver’s side from my position over there. Once it passes that sign there,” She pointed to the yellow curve marker in the distance. “I will detonate the heads.”

Stone’s followed her finger, watching where she indicated.  With a nod, he set off at a run to cross the road and jump the ditch.  Nori didn’t follow, staying at her back.  He rolled his shoulders at her before walking out into the direction of their hiding place. Tauriel stood higher than the MacDurin, able to see their destination over his head. 

Nori walked in a hopping lope, neither too fast nor too slow. Tauriel didn’t want to look too closely at why he chose to come with her rather than his brother’s boyfriend.  By all accounts and observations, Stone and Ori’s relationship was accepted as a matter of course, yet nothing was ever said if Dori and Nori had issues with it.   Ori had been out and up front about his sexuality for many years before Stone swept him off his feet. Since Tauriel and Kili had been overseas at the time, it was unclear whether or not their relationship had been met with initial hostility. Nori had been talking to Stone on the drive.  He obviously didn’t care in front of people. She decided to ask Fili in the morning about what the deal was.  If Stone, Nori and possibly Bofur were fighting with her on a regular basis, there could be no bad undercurrents or they were all dead.

They picked a path in the tall weeds, running parallel to the main road. The binoculars had not shown the area’s relief pattern so the grade leading up a hill was a bit of a surprise. It made her job easier to have a minor knoll for cover. The elevated position offered a clear line to someone entering the loop that hugged the southern tip of Mirkwood Forest. The crackle of the radio signaled that Medved and his group had taken position to the west. They were ready for any possible back up coming from Dol Guldor.  Their spot was the last point before the road emptied into the turn-offs for Lothlorian University and Caras Galadhon. 

Her lungs feeling cored out and raw with the cold. The blip of a signal over the radio indicated that the Beornlings were in position down the road to wait for the transport. Bending to her knees, Tauriel stripped off the borrowed gloves to screw in the Inferno head.  Nori stood tall at her side while she worked, taking the binoculars to scan the area. He absently took the gloves back to stash them in the back jeans pock.  With his small stature and odd hair, he looks like a frazzled turkey.

“Please send Stone a text to let him know that everyone is in position.” Nori nodded as he pulled out his phone.

Tauriel handed him the arrow as she pulled her fingers guards out of a pocket. She was likely to get off a few shots with the bow until using her short sword became necessary.  The ideal that the guards weren’t carrying guns in the cab was improbable.  It was only in their section of the state that outlawed the use of firearms, not everywhere else in the world.  If they were running illegal trade, what was a few guns in the mix? 

Beyond the hide, apple trees rose, icicles draping skeletal branches, but she stopped before she reached them. Several snow-blanketed bushes dotted the top of the incline. Someone driving out of the Wilderlands might have trouble seeing into the dark, and the shrubbery in their hiding spot would doubly hide her.  The long stretch of nothing was mind numbing.  Dis and Kili had told her that Thrain had wandered this areas from years, living off the land. 

“You’re good at this.” Nori said quietly at her back. “Very methodical.”

For a minute, she wasn’t sure what he meant.  Nori was often hard to read, staying in corners were others couldn’t see him. Aside from a moment in Lake Town last summer, they had maybe exchanged a handful of words in the last eight months. Of late, he had been along and they had bonded over blowing things up.  

Tauriel smiled as she trampled the weeds for when she knelt behind the bushes to wait. “I hate surprises. The last surprise I got, Legolas cut my back with an arrow.”

Nori grunted, finding a good spot to her left.  He wouldn’t impede her draw nor block her when she ran to intercept. “Yeah, well. The last surprise I got, I went to prison.”

Tauriel didn’t think before she responded. “I'd take the arrow.”

“Me too.” He agreed, squatting down low.

It wasn’t so farfetched a probability, Tauriel realized. Too many laws had been broken, too much crime that could land her in jail if it didn’t end soon. It was fortunate that the Sheriff and the Mayor were friends, neither of whom wished to prosecute her or the others. They had been a law unto themselves for so long, the Durinsons had donated so much money over the years to the local towns and youth projects as had Mirkwood.  Tauriel wasn’t sure about Thorin’s motivation but Thranduil had done his part in hopes that those in power remembered his good will and would act accordingly to his requests.  Every gift from the Sindarin had a couple of strings attached.  A kind of get out of jail free card.

Tauriel looked into Stone’s direction who remained motionless, ear cocked in the direction of the last noise.  Tension coursed through her body, and she felt like a tightly coiled spring.  They didn’t have much longer, hopefully this was a milk run after all.

**88**

Bert, Tom and Bill hated this point in the delivery.  It was a long stretch of road through the Wilderlands that would cause a driver to go to sleep faster than a bottle of Jack with a Nyquil chaser. So, they started a game. Now these were all big boys, corn fed on the farm from some place in the Midwest that no one cares about.  So when the three men with healthy appetites are in a confided space for any length of time, the subject eventually makes it way to food.  Any food, all food, food during sex, or post sex food.  Then there is the debate about what to use in the food itself.  Since that last stretch always seems the longest, the large knuckle draggers hold off on the ingredient debate until they round the bend to Woodland Highway.

Tonight’s delivery was on schedule, they had left after the sun went down once the last shipment had arrived at the Dorwinion warehouse.  The creepy Orcs had begun to request weekly shipments of weapons which meant more money for the Torog Shipping. The box truck runs were scheduled at night, late so to avoid the weight stations or highway patrols. The secondary roads from the base were deserted anyway, but who wanted to take chances with going to jail.

The illegal trafficking racked in piles of money but it was chicken feed next to the serious dough they made at the border from Canada as well as the seaports.  Homeland Security, FBI, and a whole bunch of other lettered agencies were too busy playing keep away with the threats that slipped into the United States on any given day.  The No Fly List? Best joke since Michael Jordan playing baseball. If thousands of illegals can walk across a border in the middle of the desert, who’s to say that they won’t carry a few extra things on their back?  The Coyote business was booming and Torog was cashing in.

Their boss was an anal nut.  Bert had never spoken with the man directly, everything was done over the computer, email or by text.  All trucks were loaded with GPS to know exactly where they were and how fast they were going.  Fuel was calculated based upon speed and distance travel.  The Boss never failed to send a text if the drivers were going too slow or fast.  Every part of their delivery was monitored worse than jail.  

Bill with his high squeaky voice was two steps from getting a beat down. He flung boogers around the cab of the truck with disgusting zeal.  The little pervert slipped his hand after the gear shift in a flagrantly disgusting manner, earning a slap at the jaw from Tom. Bert was ready to scream at the lot of them when one loud thunk sounded from the front driver’s side, flowed by another on a passenger side.

Bert was in the process of turning when the windshield exploded in wreaths of yellow and red, the sound of metal twisting in a death screech. The front of the truck lost momentum, nosediving into the blacktop at 45 mph.  All three men in the cab slammed forward to kiss the dashboard that was rapidly heating to the broiled stage.  There was screaming, maybe all of them, and definitely someone farted.

Bert and Tom rolled out of the driver’s side in a quick exit while Bill fell out the passenger’s.  The smell of burning engine and the clean crisp of oil and gasoline thickened the air along with billowing smoke.  The truck’s rear end hadn’t realized the front part was on fire and mostly useless. The vehicle rutted into the asphalt, skating grooves into road. Momentum pushed the wreckage into the drain ditch to explode when it crashed to a halt. Mud and weeds tore from the embankment due to the force of impact, clumps of dirt burst into the air.

The flash of the explosion lit up the fields for a mile at least, flashing like a strobe to uncover the stripped nature of the Wilderlands.  Bert staggered to his feet when a tall redhead and a short ginger male stepped to the black top.  He grinned at them before he spit the blood that was filling his mouth.  The ingredient discussion would have to wait.  There were people to kill. 

**88**

Tauriel took off in a sprint after she had pushed the detonator, running full speed to reach the truck as it shuddered in flames. Tipped into the ditch, the fiery metal was a blazing lighthouse over flat ground. They needed to hurry and get out of here. She was under no illusions that their truck was wired to the latest tracking equipment and even as they ran, a call was being forwarded that the vehicle had made an unscheduled stop. Orcs and Spiders might be coming quickly.

The three men had bailed from the burning wreck, looking shaken and disoriented.  _And very huge_.  One spat on the road as Tauriel pulled an arrow and fired. She didn’t take the care of a proper aim, just notched and let go. The shaft hit the upper torso but didn’t bury, making a plinking sound against his chest before it fell to earth. The man looked down at the arrow then back at her and smiled a ghastly stretch of his face, almost making her cringe. Tauriel had seen ugly but these three were like a different breed of humanity.

The one she had shot roared, pulling a wicked looking mace from his side as he charged towards them.  His fellows looked around in the darkness before spying Tauriel and Nori.  She pulled the sword at her back, taking a deep breath like it was her last.  The human battering ram lowered his head and shoulders with the same focus as an enraged bull.  One of the others, just as large, pulled a crowbill from his back to take a step in their direction. He wasn’t as large as the first one inbound but it didn’t stop Stone from rolling onto the pavement to slash at guard’s calves.

Tauriel and Nori feinted to opposite sides, giving way to the troll that was bearing down upon them.  They pinchered into his sides when he couldn’t check himself fast enough, swinging wildly at Nori first, and then Tauriel.  The thief copied Stone’s maneuver, kicking at a knee and slashing at his midsection with a dagger.  Tauriel’s sword skidded along the mace handle when he swung it at her again, taking a step back at the power of his block.  

A pair of headlights suddenly whited out the dark as the Russians arrived to mow down the third and smaller man.  Tauriel almost felt sorry for the guard as he rolled up the hood to crash into the windshield then fall down with a sickening splat.  The Russians had cleared the fight zone, jumping out to finish off the third man with boots and knives.

“They are wearing body armor!”  Tauriel tried to tell them until she heard Nori yell at her back.

Someone large shoved Tauriel violently forward. She went flying, falling hard to the ground. The blow knocked all the wind out of her, making her gasp for air. A sharp metal edge sliced across her upper arm. She screamed out, hands flying up in a defensive metal whirlwind to force the muscle head guard back.   Whipping her legs up, she came back from a crouch into a blindingly-fast attack. Metal screeched behind her as the others engaged. Tauriel held her sword before her, but she only parried when a blade streaked at her chest. Her opponent was huge, most likely to use that brute strength to wear her down.    

Nori whirled around the side, using both hands to try and shove the knife blade into the guard’s upper thigh without much success. The blades skinned across the surface like it was stone without the sparks. He yelled at Nori, slamming at the thief’s wrists with a meaty hand.  Her weapons didn’t slow him down in the slightest.  Only the Russians running over the one transporter to stab it in the side of the head had put one of the three down and he hadn’t moved. Built like some monstrous troll from legend with near impenetrable skin, these guards were beating them back one step at a time.   

“Aim for the heads!”  Tauriel shouted as she leapt out of the mace’s reach. 

Nori took her words to heart, trying to jump on the troll’s back to use his knives to climb to the head.  The guard was close to six foot eight with a corresponding reach.  He slung Nori off as he twirled the mace around his body to gain speed to hit at Tauriel.  She could hear the Russians and Stone at her back, taking on the other with a crowbill. 

Getting an idea, Tauriel ducked the next swing to leap up and jab her boot into the closest leg. The man grunted but didn’t go down. She crouched her landing, leaving her back open to attack.  It was worrisome, against her nature. Nori used that advantage, jumping to her back, using it as a spring board for great height.  Tauriel slammed her leg behind the guard’s knees to throw him off balance.  A roar of pain broke the air.  Looking up, Nori was stabbing the exposed neck over and over again. He clung to the great ape like a Spider Monkey. Blood sprayed like a water hose into the orange and red illuminated night.

The body sunk down the knees as the life seeped into the ground.  Nori hung on till the last, stabbing the back of the head for good measure.  As hard as the take down had been, Tauriel wouldn’t say a word where normally she would gripe about being overzealous.  The last of the fighting ended with the Russians holding down the other guard while Stone stabbed him in the ear and eye.  It was just as gruesome yet effective.   

Headlights popped up from the curve to the West, running at a high rate of speed.  Stone shouted a warning, scattered everyone to the sides of the road to prevent another run over.  Tauriel pulled a shaft, drawing it fully.  Stone took a knee at her side to level his crossbow until they realized it was Beorn with the others. Their SUV skidded to a halt to block the road and any easterly traffic. 

The big Bear jumped out, his clothes rent in a few places from battle.  Haldir looked slightly smudged from whatever he encountered but not the worse for his effort.  Two of the Russians had begun working on prying open the cargo hold while their friends had been battling along side Stone.  That it took three well trained men to kill the guard was telling of what level Torog Shipping played.  If it had been just Tauriel, Nori and Stone, she knew they would have never succeeded.

“Everyone ok?”

Beorn shrugged. “Stopped a truck full of Spiders. Might have been an escort to Mount Gundabad.”

The doors swung open to reveal four large totes and a black metal case that was similar to what Grey Company had shipped her.  Looking over the containers, she said, “We don’t have time to go through them. Where can we store them in a hurry?”

She had no idea what was in them but they couldn’t be left. Everyone that wasn’t walking wounded, grabbed a container end to rig up something in the SUVs.   Beorn pulled out his phone to make a call.  Tauriel watched him close when she heard Bard’s name mentioned.  With his vault for weapons storage, it was the perfect place if he didn’t mind housing illegal goods.

“Can I get some of the armor?” Nori's tone changed for the first time. He sounded reverent as he looked over the Torog guards. 

“That’s creepy.” Haldir sniffed as he looked on.

“Practical, I say.”  The frizzled ginger told him as he began yanking off a shirt from a dead man. “I doubt this is the last time Tauriel gets into a fight.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive been playing along with the idea of Galadriel being a rapacious sex diva. I hinted at it in this chapter but really won't get too much more into it until later chapters. For this story, Arwen is Galadriel's daughter by Elrond rather than her granddaughter. Celebrian is her daughter too by Celeborn. So Arwen and Celebrian are sisters rather than mother and daughter. It would have been difficult until I made Galadriel really old and I didn't want to do that. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry that this update has come later than normal but work is hell.


	23. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 19 12:24 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili's POV then Sigrid's... Figrid Smut !!!

Fili paced the boardroom in lengthening strides, his tactical axe with a pike end bouncing against his leg.  He couldn’t leave, not yet until Tauriel returned and had her feet planted on Erebor property.  Stone had called to advise that the raid on the transport had been successful.  He didn’t go into detail, and Fili hadn’t wanted to really know. The only thing that mattered right now was that Tauriel was coming home.

Beorn wanted to stash the cases they had taken from the truck with Bard in Dale.  As a hunting store owner, he had access with many types of weapons and would need a place to store them.  The vault in his store was neigh impregnable, built with the same approach used in banks.  As the Mayor of Dale, it would be overlooked if he just happened to have a few extra things in there that others would frown upon.

Bard was still in silent mode however in regards to his eldest child.  Fili walked out the long line of windows as the worry took a good hold on his thoughts.  Sigrid was pregnant with his grandchild and still he hadn’t called her or come by.  Whatever his feelings for the situation or what he could or couldn’t accept, the fact was glaringly obvious that his daughter would deliver a child.  Why was that so difficult to wrap his head around?

“Fili?” Gloin stuck his head in the room. “Beorn is inbound.”

“Thanks.”

The blond rushed to the door, following the older Durinson up the long bland hallway.  There had been thoughts on occasion that the Thror building needing to be remodeled.  There was a decidedly fifties feel with the décor.  The even spaced doorways opened to gaping depths of empty rooms, black rectangles cutting into pale peach walls.  The beige tile floor was as tired looking as the anemic color that canopied it.  There were no pictures on the walls, nothing to draw the eye with any type of pleasantry.

Oin was already at the entrance, putting an arm around Tauriel as she came into the building.  His heart went into his throat at her wan expression.  Stone was right behind her though, carrying her weapon’s bag and bow.  His own crossbow was slung across his back.

“I thought you said she wasn’t hurt?”  His voice echoed down the boxy hall.  Tauriel rolled his eyes at him.

“It’s a nick.” She grumbled as Oin huffed beside her.

“She packed it to stop the blood but there will be more stitches.  You should have come back directly!”

Fili let Oin take her down the hall at a moderate pace.  He stayed behind for a minute, listening to the pair snipe at each other as the older man tried to boss her around and Tauriel deflecting.  He had let Tauriel go, let her fight this one without him.  She was right though, he had wanted to kill his uncle. Thorin and Dain had rattled his cage more than he had liked. That was going to end and now.  He couldn’t for the sake of his sanity let her wade into the fight without him, no matter what she said.  It was his fight too. People don't go into battle because they're sure of victory. One walks into the battle field because it's the right thing to do.  

Stone started to follow them when Fili caught his arm. He let Oin get Tauriel into the boardroom before he walked up the corridor. “Don’t lie to me again about her injuries. If you think she has a hang nail, you tell me!”

Sunlight has a way of holding memories at bay, but in the night, dreams became the devil's henchmen. Fears fueled his nightmares, what could happen, where it was going to go. Bombur’s death had brought down those fears, eating at him. He knew that there were people who are so deeply imbedded in his life that their existence was taken for granted until suddenly they weren’t there and he collapse into rubble at their loss.  Sigrid, his mother, Kili… now, Tauriel.

The menacing tone made Stone’s eyes widen.  He frantically waived off from his cousin. “I didn’t realize it was that bad until after we stopped in Dale. Really, she just tied it off and kept going.  But that isn’t the biggest problem.”

Stone took the next few minutes relaying what he had seen with Haldir and his attitude.  Fili turned back to the entrance where Beorn was still standing. His Ford Excursion idled in the night air, coughing upon white clouds of exhaust under the heavy outdoor lighting. Nori was nowhere to be seen, probably already in the Courtyard.  Glorin was the doorkeeper, refusing along with some of the Iron Hills members from allowing them to come inside any further than the lobby. Thankfully, none of them were Dain.  The bastard had scurried home after getting caught in Fili’s office.

The blond just shook his head for a minute as Haldir joined them in the lobby. “Alright, stay with her until Oin is finished. If you haven’t called Ori, please do.” 

Fili couldn’t fathom when Tauriel had become the flavor of the moment. Beorn, now a March Sentry? The last thing Fili needed was a pack of hounds trying to sniff Tauriel’s tail.  Voices reached out to him from the end of the hall as he walked to the entrance at a fast clip.  Haldir Warden was standing with Beorn and Gloin, discussing something in reference to the monetary loss that Smaug had faced tonight. Warden was the in between height compared to the big Russian and the smaller Durinson.  It was like seeing an odd stepstool. 

“Haldir.” Fili shook the other blond’s hand in greeting. “It’s good to see you again.”

The calm expression of the taller man would have been ok if he hadn’t not kept looking over Fili’s shoulder for someone else.  A redhead possibly?  Beorn wrapped his hands around his shoulders as he looked at Fili with his trademark growling expression. The man was a closed book, slammed tight with aggression.

“I was happy to be in the right place at the right time.” Haldir looked him in the eye before those pale greenies flicked over his shoulder once more.  It was starting to grate Fili’s nerves. “I had hoped to see Tauriel before I go.  To make sure she will be alright, that cut looked a little nasty.”

Fili had the idea as he shook the blond’s hand, it was more than just concern.  Haldir might have said the words but there were others floating through his brain that had to do with his brother’s woman.  The urge to horse laugh at the expression on the archer’s face came and went just as fast.  Beorn’s nose twitched in bunny fashion as his eyes flicked between Haldir and Fili.  It was so very odd after watching the big Bear basically sex the redhead up one wall and down another then he completely back away.  What Fili had told him at the Silvertine must have sunk in.   

“She’s fine. Oin is checking her out, but I will tell you asked after her.” Looking at the Russian to give him a clue, Fili cleared his throat. “I assume you came with Beorn but do you need a ride?”

Haldir’s mouth set into a grim line, peeved that he was being dismissed before he was ready. “No thank you. My car is in Carrock.”

Jovial now that the message had been received, Fili held his hand out again for a manly clap on the shoulder. “You will never know how grateful we are for what you did for us tonight.  My brother will be most appreciative to know that his _fiancé_ is still kicking ass and taking names.”

“There were five containers, one locked.  We took two filled with edged weapons but there is Symtec at the bottom. Bard will hold them but not for along.”  Beorn let go of his arms to let them fall to his sides. 

“Do you have any idea of what is in the locked case?”  This was the first he had heard of this. “Take a third case for your trouble.  I am sure Tauriel won’t mind.”

“No, two is good.” Beorn argued. “No idea about case, but it is large enough to be mini gun. Bard wants it gone. Federal inspectors might come.”

Fili nodded to show he understood.  When Tauriel was strong enough, she would head into town and check it out.  Digging into his beard with his fingers, the _twitch – twitch_ sound of his fingers in the wiry hair was a distraction. He needed to institute a policy that no one left Erebor until it was in twos or threes.  Getting caught outside alone, even Tauriel, might be a death sentence.

The two men left while Gloin stayed behind. He idly twisted a few red strands of his beard as the SUV clanked into gear with the Bear behind the wheel once again. Haldir took shotgun but kept looking at the lobby like Tauriel would magically appear to see him off.  Fili didn’t feel the need to ask what had been discussed before he arrived. If it was major, Gloin would tell Thorin.

“If you are here, who is at Durinson house?”  Fili felt an overwhelming need to see his woman. Now.

“Gandalf, the Luin Twins, Dori and Ori.  The rest are at Kingdom and the Courtyard.” Gloin released his beard as he gruffed at the last of the taillights. “Too many new people around here for my tastes.”

“Mine too.”

Sigrid and Dis were in the Courtyard that would be his destination.  Tomorrow, he would make a list of where he could apply for jobs, see what was in his skill set.   Fili hated to uproot them, take her away from New Hampshire.  Sigrid would want to have her family close by when she delivered.  She still had hopes that Bard would come around, understand that he was going to be a grandfather.  But like any ostrich, his head was buried so far in the sand, he couldn’t see what he was missing in life.

As he walked, Fili began to review his options. He wasn’t like Kili, his art wasn’t the driving part of his life.  Kili had more talent than he realized, more need to let it out where Fili had not.  Drawing, metal work, the Ironworks all of it vented that part of him that kept his creativity alive.  Talent grows in everyone, he firmly believed that, whether it was nurtured or not.  Some people have to create or they explode with it.  Others are flowering trees with ripening ideas that will wither and die under harsh bright criticism.  A different person’s talent might be a pressure cooker, just waiting to blow.

With his degree from Columbia in engineering, they could go basically anywhere.  They might have a life away from the killing, something new that was completely theirs. There was tons of industries where he might try his hand.  Oil and gas, energy, construction, design and fabrication. Maybe he should look to the west coast at first. Not the south, though.  Too many bad memories there.

Fili stomped along to the Courtyard, his mind in a whirl. It was just before midnight with lots of activity still out on Mountain road. Cyclops eyes of jaundiced headlights glared in the dark from so many of the additional security’s vehicles. They were out there, huddled around thermos of hot coffee and trash can fires. He wasn’t sure when Dwalin was sleeping since all of the security reports were being coordinated between he and Balin. The Mountain road, Kingdom subdivision, the Courtyard, and Erebor, everything sat on the brothers.

Perdition awaits at the end of a road constructed entirely from good intentions, the devil emerges from the details and hell abides in the small print.  Fili sighed to himself as his mother’s house came into view. 

There was guilt, not as much as he had thought there would be.  For years, he had made excuses for his uncle’s behavior, Frerin had done the same.  But Thorin could be as savage as any murder of crows, picking at his family until they bled. It was his way or none. Fili had tried, Dis had too until Kili had enough and left.  Their family was fraying with his uncle at the helm, getting driven into the ground. Harsh wasn’t the word for the Oakenshield.  Fili just wasn’t sure what the word was now.

Shaking his head, he wouldn't dwell upon what he couldn't repair at the moment.

 

**88**

Sigrid sat in Dis’ living room, watching the doors since she had heard of Tauriel’s return. True to her word, the redhead was clearing out a lot of Smaug’s minions. She had no idea how many the Red Dragon employed but the wild card as she had heard Bilbo call her, had to be thinning the ranks. The near miss of the Orcs chasing them back to the Lonely Mountain had frightened them all. It was one thing to think in the abstract of a violent life, quite another to have it arrive on your doorstop.  But he was back, he came home.  That was all that matter to Sigrid.    

A stamping noise out on the porch drew her attention, making her heart beat a little faster.  Fili came through the door with a half-smile of greeting and a quirked eyebrow. Dis snorted at him from her kitchen, having seen the smirk that was her son’s trade mark. Sigrid was off the couch in a hurry to wrap him in her arms and a kiss.

“You are the best part of my day.  I love you so much, babe.” He said it with so much passion that immediately a warm blossom expanded in her chest.   They nuzzled each other a few minutes before Dis cleared her throat quite loudly.

The fireplace cracked, throwing out the cedar and pear smells as the wood burned.  Knowing she would be here, Sigrid let the fire burn out in the hearth at home. The heat would kick on in their absence, using the propane from the tank out back.

“Tauriel is ok?”  Dis asked, concerned for the redhead. They all were.

She had heard Fili, talking to his brother earlier.  The conversation on his side was vague, rather non-committal. Sigrid had the chance to talk to him, excitedly asking questions about winter in Paris and the like.  Kili was the same, of course. Being without Tauriel was hard for him, sadness laced every word that pertained to her. They had fallen for each other so fast, or others might think so.  But not Sigrid, not when she fell down the rabbit hole for Fili. 

“Yeah. Took a cut to the arm. Oin is stitching her up.”  Dis’ eyebrow went up in much the same manner as her son’s, question his validity. “I swear, Mom. She’s fine.”

No one wanted to be the one to have the conversation with Kili that Tauriel had been seriously wounded.  If Tauriel burned Rhovanion County to keep Kili alive, Kili would raze what’s left if she was injured.  He was happy go lucky until he lost his shit.

The little woman shuffled to her son, kissing on the head. “Keep her in for a few days. Seriously. Tauriel needs a breather.”

“I made her some brownies earlier.  It isn’t cake but she has a real weakness for chocolate.”  Sigrid and Dis giggled. Tauriel would mow through the treats in no time.

Fili hugged her close but continued. “Did you hear about Dain at the Ironworks?”

Sigrid’s gaze swung from mother to son. “What happened?”

She was fully aware of the enmity between Fili and Dain.  They were constantly at odds, sniping at each other.  Dis’ worried expression didn’t change, as one problem replaced another at for the topic of conversation.

“I heard he was there.  I heard you tussled with Thorin over it.”

Sigrid pulled back to get a good look at Fili’s face. A dark shadow of a bruise was mostly hidden by his beard but it was there at his jaw line.  She reached out unconscious to touch the area only to be stopped by Fili taking her hand in his.  He placed a kiss in the palm of her hand, giving her a smile.  He turned back to Dis who was eyeing the bruise herself.  She wasn’t pleased at all.

“Mom, I can’t stay here. Dain’s going through the factory, sniffing through my desk.”  He took a deep breath and let it go. “Thorin …is..I-I just can’t anymore.”

Dis sighed.  Sigrid wanted to reach out to her, knowing that it must be hard.  With Kili leaving in the fall for Europe and now Fili talking about doing the same, she was losing both her boys from the nest very quickly.  Because of Thorin.  Sigrid couldn’t say she was surprised, everyone had been feeling the tension for months.  It wasn’t just the Orcs and all that.  Erebor was beginning to crumble from within.  A house who fights against itself will not stand.

Sigrid hugged Fili closer, wanting to give him all of her strength. He had been her rock, the one she had always loved.  Burying her nose between his sweater and skin, the laundry soap battled with his body wash.  Both were soothing to her but he smelled like the crisp fresh air too. It was almost as if the outside air seeped into his pores when he walked, the scent clinging to him. Those pheromones that drove Sigrid crazy.

His breath blew against her ear in a long sigh. The thought of leaving was hard for them both, leaving her family and his.  However, Fili and their child were the future. The bun in the oven was an unexpected joy.   She would never sacrifice that, not for all the gold and gems in Erebor.  If he wanted to leave, she would follow.

“Don’t make any decisions now. Not while that shit is on your mind. Sleep on it tonight and tomorrow will shine out the clearer for it.”

They bundled up together, walking the short distance to their cabin after wishing Dis good night. The New Hamphire weather would be bitterly cold for the next month or so unless Easter bunny brought a warm front. Plumes of smoke puffed from the chimneys in the courtyard, like wraiths dancing before the moon. Gloin and Mrs. Gloin’s cabin was dark with Gloin spending the night at Thror. Cheery lights in the windows cast out their glow.   It was a warmth that never failed to make her happy.  Her home, a place that she might have Fili and they could be together.  It was hard won, hard fought, wringing tears for what she had to give up for it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”  She asked as she put her coat on the hook while Fili closed the door. 

“Not yet.  I just need you.”  The thud of his axe on the hardwood was the only warning she had before he spun her around to greet him.

The kiss was unexpected, making her giggle. Every slide of his lips was loving and deliberate. They made out like two people who had all the time in the world, and every moment of it was delicious. Dropping her head into his neck, Sigrid kissed the path his evening whiskers had made. The scrape of his stubble against her lips was a turn-on.  The best kind.

She gasped when his cold hands sought her skin. Fili groaned and covered her loose mouth with his own, driving his tongue in to steal the stars from her eyes, the fire from her mind.  Chilled fingers found her breasts, pebbling her nipples to diamond points. 

“Please!” She begged, tearing her mouth from his as pulled his blue sweater and henley from his body. When Sigrid wasn’t sleeping, she was crazy horny.

Fili picked her up, leaving his clothes on the floor.  She would worry about that later, much later after they had taken the edge off. It was one of the things she had loved about him, the wonderful sex.  To her, it wasn’t just a physical act but a need for an intimate connection.  Fili told her often that before it was just a release, a body function.  With her, it was so much more, a visceral feast of indescribable pleasure. 

Her feet touched the floor just in time for Fili to slam the bedroom door closed. The heavy wood hit the jam hard, rattling the pictures on the walls.  She used the door at her back for leverage and arched into him. Mindful of his bruise, Sigrid let him take her, kissing her at his pace.  Her leg rose on its own volition and wrapped around the back of his thigh. It gave Sigrid the perfect angle to grind against his crotch. The combination of his hardness and the seam of the jeans bit into her engorged clit and had her wanting more. More of him, more of this. More sensation to push her over the edge.   

Eagerness had both of their hands undo her jeans, four hands were better than just two. Her sweatshirt and bra sailed across the room to land on a far distant corner while her jeans made it to her ankles.  His mouth never let up, sipping and taking from her. Each moan, every gasp was his. Sigrid felt him tug away the scrap of material that had once been her granny panties. If it were possible, she got wetter. Something about the sound of the ripping material and his harsh kiss called out to the primal woman locked down inside. It was scary and exciting and so fucking sexy.   

The thick plunge of two digits took her breath.  They scissored, twisting until she couldn’t think. Moans tumbled from her lips in concert with her snapping hips. Fili’s body caged her, holding her captive and in control of her body. She was his love and his lover. He would tease her for a bit, even now, a smile tickled his beard along her neck.

The combination of his wicked tongue and magic fingers had her thoughts blanking out. But she wanted him inside, touching every spot that made her squeal.  The pulse of his hard dick against her leg made the heat flare hot along her skin. Taking the initiative was a turn on for him, always had been.  He liked the making decisions, yet also enjoyed her taking the lead. The give and take was another fantastic aspect of him. She unbuttoned his fly then slipped the pulsing cock out of his jeans and wrapped her hand around his length. Immediately, Sigrid felt an answering tingle between her legs when he curled his finger forward to brush against her spot. 

“How do you want it, baby?” The words brushed along her skin, making that tingle into a beating drum.

The pants were in the way, obstructing her view. Fili withdrew his hands, letting her work him. Sigrid pushed his jeans down to his knees, letting his briefs follow. The brush of his honey colored pubes thickened to blanket his upper thighs.  When she looked down, the golden wisps darkened his pale skin.  His hands traveled down her body to take his cock in hand from her while Sigrid watched.  He rubbed the head of his member against her skin, wetting her with his seed.  Any contact, no matter how small had the chance to ignite them both into flames.

“I want that cock in my mouth before you fuck me with it.” Her voice sounded far away, as though she was fading from her desire as she spoke. Fili’s grip was firm, tight as he jacked his hand up and down his flesh in quick, smooth strokes. 

It was magnificent, the dark purple head glistening with pre cum as it played peak a boo with her to a chant of groans and panting. He fucked his own hand, using the other to play with his balls. The silver steel of his Jacob’s ladder soaked up the light, a long line of studs that he carefully avoided. Sigrid wanted to taste how hot his cock was, how heavy his sac would be in her hand.  Sometimes you have to be vocal about what you want, especially when your fiancé has the ability to reduce a girl to a puddle just by dropping his drawers. Fili gave her that control now while he jacked himself off.  He would do whatever she wanted, all she had to do was tell him. 

He saw the look on her face at his display and squeezed the meat hard, making the veins bulge where it extended beyond his fist. Sigrid whimpered, feeling her tongue continuing rubbing the roof of her mouth in desperate need to suck him. Fili’s shaft was exactly the same dark pink of his lips: medium-rare. It was long and curved and hooked to the left in a jaunty way that seemed to guarantee wicked pleasure for all involved.  The metal was an enhancer like a wiggling finger along with his cock, promising her orgasm after orgasm when he moved in just the right way. Tremors rolled down her spine, making her hands shake.

 

Sigrid sank to her knees, licking her lips in anticipation. It was hypnotic, the size of him, the smell of his musk. She swayed closer and ran her tongue around the head, lapping up that small amount of salty goodness. Fili groaned and buried his hands into Sigrid’s hair on either side of her head. But he just held her hair back. He didn’t try to control the motions. To reward him for that bit of self-control, Sigrid leaned forward and slowly took as much of his length as she could inside her mouth. The beating rub of the metal on her tongue made her tremble with longing, however, this was about control. 

Cupping the down covered testicles, Sigrid moved her head to the side to tease the head of his prick. She licked the slit before sucking deeply on the helmet with strong, greedy pulls. She felt so greedy for him, wanting to devour him.  Looking up the long line of his body, his mouth open in ecstasy, Fili was a beautiful sight. Slowly, she pulled back. When she had only the tip in her mouth, Sigrid flicked her tongue lightly against that sensitive spot just below the flared edges.  

Fili’s whole body jerked, and Sigrid had to move clear so she wouldn’t scrape his sensitive skin with teeth. But before he could say anything or try to guide the direction, she dove back in. Holding his cock with one hand just below the head, she wrapped her lips around the top and slowly slid down as far as she could, her lips chasing the loose fist.     

Then Sigrid backtracked, making sure to squeeze him with her hand the whole way. She set up a pace and continued to caress him with both hand and mouth. By the fourth stroke, Fili groaned and dug his hand deeper into her hair. By the tenth, he started to move his hips toward her, silently urging Sigrid on with his body. After that she lost count, just kept going. 

“Oh god, babe. Enough!”  Fili took a step back, forcing her to release him.  His balls were so clenched under his cock, it looked like them were trying to root into his groin.

Grabbing her under arms, he all but threw her on the bed. Startled, she laughed at him. A few seconds later, he was leaning over her again with a wicked smile. Sigrid caught her breath at the first thrust, the wet suction of her body taking him in. And soon after that she wasn’t able to think at all. Her entire focus—world—was the man between her thighs. His powerful thrusts pressed her to the brink, but when he ran a teasing finger over her clit, it unleashed her.  Holding on to Fili, they slicked and slid against each other in cacophony of growls and wheezes.  

His tongue plunged into her mouth and his cock deep inside where she really wanted it. He was big and thick and everywhere. His breath in her ear birthed shivers in wracked pulses and her pussy clasped him convulsively.  His thrusts built up speed and the sparks from the earlier teasing melded into one hot, throbbing erogenous zone. It wouldn’t take much more to push Sigrid over the edge. With a hoarse shout, he stopped thrusting and ground his pelvis into hers. That was it. A flash bang of an orgasm broke through her nerve endings. Her fingernails raked down his back while her pussy quaked around his thrusting cock.  

His arms quivered next to Sigrid's head. He dropped his forehead on hers, nuzzling her lips with his own. Their breaths mingled as they wrapped the one into the other.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never attempted fellatio with someone who had metal in their genitals. If I have written it wrong, don’t be shy about telling me.. I have tumblr if you would rather lol.


	24. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 19th 01:18 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel POV then Bilbo's... 
> 
> Kissing... mentions of masturbation...

Tauriel walked into the cabin with the feeling that everything was crashing around her head faster than she could toss it back in the air. Stamping her feet on the mat, she closed the door as quietly as she could. Six stitches in the arm from where the armored troll had taken a slicer to it. The local would wear off soon, reminding her with vivid noise that her attention had been diverted. It might have been her neck that was sliced instead of her arm.  She would have to start getting her head in the game or she wouldn’t have a head.

Carnage aside, she felt as if she had turned a corner, crossed an invisible threshold.  The way of the blade, this harsh life, has a mind and momentum of its own. Thranduil had been a big part of that restless mind, a captain to steer and kept her on course.  He had never let her look too long at the details, letting them flow by.  Now, she looked and she gauged her worth by the bodies that fell in her wake.

Maybe something snapped when they went out searching for the enemy and returned knowing they’d taken lives. Or maybe they’d simply parked their decency and restraint at home.  Their lives had become whittled down without their knowledge, forcing each to pick the sin they could live with. Or it would pick them? There was only so much attention she could give it and still remain sane.

The fight adrenaline was cut off, leaving her body worn from its absence.  Oin had been concerned for her walking back to the Courtyard from the Thror Building.  He drove her and Stone in his Ranger, bypassing the rules of driving in the sidewalk.  The frozen layer of ice crunched under the tires, making them lose traction every few feet.  Oin had promised to come by tomorrow to check on her, and also to discuss her diet. Considering the calories that she expelled on a given day, when she took a hit like tonight, Tauriel almost passed out.  She had made a point to tell him she would be going to Dale to check on the haul they had taken, wanting to make sure that it wasn’t something worse than guns. She would look into protein supplements then.

The stress of it was getting to her she decided, pushing aside her normal habits.  After a fight she made a point to check her weapons, take apart every arrow.  Those bladed tools were there to save her life, they deserved her care and attention.  Rather than cleaning her swords and knives like she ought, the redhead pulled out her phone to stare at the picture of her fiancé with blood caked under her nails.  Pulling open her contacts, she sent off a quick text despite the others that demanded attention. 

 **Tauriel 12:55 AM ~** _I miss u. bed isn’t the same w/o u n it._

It was true. It wasn’t the same. In the cold lonely o’clock in the morning, Tauriel stumbled through the living room for the kitchen.  Little night lights haloed the walls above white socket plates, throwing just enough ambience to prevent someone from walking into furniture. She had always liked the dark, the still thickness of it.  Her apartment with Kili had the same feeling, a wide space of nothing where anything was possible.  But even better, there were no judgments, no recriminations, or inadequacies. She would lay in her bed, wrapped in Kili’s body and he into hers with his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing the only things that broke the silence.

Her phone vibrated a reply. It was about 6 am in Paris, Kili would just be getting up. When she reached the couch, Tauriel realized that it wasn’t as quiet as she had thought.  The creaking bounce of a headboard against a wall was unmistakable. Looking about the room, she noticed the sweater and shirt that Fili had been wearing earlier by the door. Yep, Fili and Sigrid were at it again, more hours of wild jungle sex.  Heavy eyelids fell closed, and she drifted for a moment. Maybe it was the porn soundtrack next door, or maybe it was inevitable. But her sleepy brain picked that moment to remember a wonderful thing of how Kili’s body fit so well against hers.   

Tauriel had not been a physical person, never seeing the point of intercourse when no one rang her bell.  Kili had changed all that very quickly.  It was a viciously hateful situation to know that level of pleasure, the constant ripple of need for him.  Then nothing. Even now, her sex throbbed heavily and her nipples tightened into hard little points at the remembered feel of his body sliding against hers whenever it could. If anyone looked close enough, it would be difficult to hide how ramped up she was getting.  It was easy to blame Fili and Sigrid but that didn’t make it fair.  They should enjoy their happiness without the captive audience across the hall. Tomorrow, she would find Dis and ask her about bunking on the couch for a while.  It would be just as awkward to be caught on said couch with her fingers in her panties, moaning her son’s name.  It was a damned if you do and a damned if you don’t position.

Pulling out her phone, she opened it to see his message.  Tauriel put the phone on the coffee table as she unlaced and dropped her boots. The thud of the thick soles was muffled by the rug, making her feel slightly guilty about not taking them off at the door when she arrived. She looked at the message with a smile as she rose to her weary feet.

 **Kili 12:57** ~ _Give me time Goddess, that bed won’t b lonely 4 2 long. ;o)_

Tauriel sent her love to him, wishing he was here tomorrow and at the same time dreading it. The battles were only going to get worse because she had opened the ball with Smaug and Azog, making them dance to her tune.  The operational tempo was in her favor but the pendulum would reach its height and swing the other way.  It was auto correction, the balance.  She just had to make the right plans to keep one foot ahead of disaster.

Taking a big gulp of her water, Tauriel thought about her next battle plan as the chorus of bouncing bed springs wound to a halt. She didn’t want to have to look at either of her imposed housemates at the moment.  She didn’t want to think of the times when Fili had been able to hear them in Kili’s room before they left for Paris.  He would understand probably, might be ok with the fact that it had gotten her a little twisted by accident.  They had shared an RV in Gladden Fields for a few weeks last year. Those had been some very thin walls.

A soft giggle made it through the rooms, probably Sigrid.  Tauriel shook off her dirty feelings of having been an unconscious voyeur. It was their house, letting her stay in Kili’s old room.  She saw the boxes of baby things that Dis had brought from Durinson house for Sigrid to go through and maybe keep.  If it as a boy, she would be set. If it was a girl, well.. it was better that she learn early about motorcycles and swords.

Taking her water to the door, she had every intention of going out to the porch. Tauriel hadn’t seen Fili aside from the few moments when she got back and now wasn’t the time to have that midnight talk. Seeing a nekked Fili right now with her feelings all over the place wasn’t good.  Not because she was interested, but because of how desperately she wanted her man and the normalcy they had found so many miles away. Lonely had a way of taking the leash off her mouth, desperate broke the collar. Fili had been nothing but good to her, he didn’t deserve the crap that was swirling inside her now.

Footsteps behind her were faster than she was. For once. “Hey.”

Tauriel whipped around to meet him, getting dizzy in the process.  Embarrassed at being found in the house, her face would have turned the same shade as her hair. Fili didn’t seem to notice, looking her over as he walked into the kitchen. He wore a pair of sleep pants and nothing else. He opened the fridge, giving her a glimpse of fine red lines cut into his shoulders.  Sigrid had marked him up pretty good.  Tauriel leaned again the door, hoping the distance would hide her discomfort.  She was after all a rotten poker face.

Fili looked to the bedroom for a minute, taking a bottle of water for himself. “Oin patch you up?”

“Yeah.”  Her phone vibrated again, humming against her hip.

As the communications chief at Mirkwood, she had always loved technology.  Now the little slim device in her pocket was a tether to the most important thing in her life. Kili was the nexus of her life, yet his life was a puzzle piece and at each corner of his, lay another life. Dis and Fili.  Fili connected to Sigrid who was attached to Bard and Tilda and Bain.  Dis attached herself to Thorin with his mangy ideals who was fitted with Dwalin and Balin and so many others. There was a ghosting feeling for her, a distance where once Legolas had fitted to form a picture but no more.

“How many did you kill?”  He asked quietly, shouldering against the kitchen wall.

Fili absently scratched his abs, all six of them. Individual and tan from working in the summer without a shirt. Where Kili was dark, Fili was light. Tauriel had no memory paying any attention to her soon to be brother’s body, only that the similarity to his sibling was painful. He was shorter than Kili, looking like a golden version of Thorin. The eye shape was the same though the color was different for each. Same nose, same full lips curtesy of their father.  Kili was muscular, like the rest of Durinsons with a more a tapered aspect to his body.  Fili’s body was wide and centered like the stump of tree, capable of anchoring himself against an onslaught. Tauriel shifted from one foot to the other, annoyed that her thoughts were driving down confusing alleys.  She would just blame it on little sleep and the drugs that Oin had shot her up with.

“There were three, I helped Nori with one.”

Fili looked uncomfortable despite what he had been doing with his woman in the other room. He rolled his neck on his broad shoulders, the breath of muscles shifting under the skin. Ignoring the byplay, Tauriel couldn’t figure where this was going.  He had seen her at Smaug’s house, had worked with her when she went to Mount Gundabad. For once, Fili looked almost guilty, though why she couldn’t say.  He had his own tally of kills like every Durin’s Folk.  Maybe babies had a way of changing a man’s perspective.

“When the war is over, we can have the luxury of debating the morality of what we do.” She told him solidly, meaning every word. 

He walked back into the kitchen, pulling out a carton of ice cream. Tension slipped along his spine, making his neck hutch a little.  Sigrid had made brownies at some point in the day while Tauriel had been sleeping.  The smell of baking chocolate had been in the air when she had stumbled out of bed. He methodically used the spoon’s edge to divvy into the gooey dessert, separating a portion for himself.  Tauriel smiled as she walked closer to take the bar stool at the end.  He was as bad as Kili when it came to sweets.

“I keep thinking of that mountain exploding and all those people getting buried alive. It could happen here, you know. I’ve done some mean shit in life but that tops it.” Fili murmured. “When it's over, what will be left of us?  How do we look each other in the eye for what we have done?”

Flinching, she looked away but there was nothing in the room that could hold her attention.  Tauriel had said something similar to Kili once, the unnaturalness of the life they had chosen. Fili didn’t notice her quandary, scarfing down alternating spoonfuls of brownies and vanilla ice cream.   

“What does it matter, if there's nothing left at all?” She asked quietly, laying down the spoon. “I will do all that I can for you, for this place. Their dead do not matter right now, only ours.” She was beginning to understand his thoughts, knowing that she felt the same.  It wouldn’t stop her from defending them, or taking the lives of their enemies. “I don’t have anything but Kili and this family, _by my own choice_. So it’s easy to give what’s left of my soul to keep everyone alive. Even Thorin.”

Fili had asked a fair question. His wrinkled forehead bunched wrinkly, taking a piece of brownie as the quiet descended. The fight was escalating thanks to her, the chessboard kept changing with each pawn taken. The rules were changing too. Tauriel sat back on the bar stool with a queer sort of feeling in her chest.  When had she become the devil’s advocate?  Here she wasn’t defending the worse of what she was capable, sugarcoating the deaths as if they were Battenbergs at high tea.  It was a most unexpected reversal.

“I’m not fighting for the Mountain, Tauriel. I just want my family safe.  Mom, Sigrid, you and Kili.  My place is with my brother, always has been.”  Fili walked to her, putting Tauriel into a one armed hug.  He kissed the side of her head. “Draw a line in your mind. Never cross it again. You have a soul, sister dear. It's damaged like the rest of us, but it’s there. Don't let Smaug or Azog or Mahal help, Thranduil or Thorin, try take it from you.”

Tauriel lay her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist.  The warmth of his skin lay under her fingers but it could have been lizard skin for all the reaction it gave her in such close proximity. His bare chest and thick muscles didn’t give her the warm willies like it did a few minutes ago. She knew that she wasn’t attracted to Fili, just needed someone to hold her, to satisfy the loss of contact that she was used to. It was what Fili represented that pushed her feelings and body into a tailspin, not the man himself. He was the brother of her greatest love, a viable extension and the closest she could get to Kili at the moment.   

Exhaling, she pulled away with a smile then headed for her room. The epiphany released her confusion, putting her thoughts back in order. Kili would be here soon, and the wait would be over. It was time to get work and stop moping about what couldn’t be changed.  She had picked her star and charted her course.  All she had to do was get it done.

 

**88**

It was after midnight, sleep was still a long time away. The roller coaster evening had no end in sight. Thorin’s messed up head space was a physical, tangible thing. Every time he leveled her with a glance tonight, Bee's brain short-circuited. And the more often she saw him, the stupider she acted. Obviously, talking to him was the only possible solution. And it’s not like she never considered the idea.

But how? He had to be on edge from everything all at once. Bilbo was of the firm belief that everyone had a secret world inside of them. Everyone. All of the people in the whole world, — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside them they all had unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, amazing worlds full to bursting with wish ever conceived. Thorin’s cosmos wasn’t something that she could assess tangibly. Once he had opened himself to her, admittance to the side that no one saw.  Then she had left him without a real goodbye.  No wonder he was gun shy.

The space beyond the windows that she could see wasn’t so dark anymore. Bilbo peered out the door, making sure that her greatest nightmare wasn’t coming to call. The trees shadowed the lighted paths from the big house in an increasing spiral down the hillside.  New Hampshire was not what she had expected, nothing like her childhood in Virginia.  Her family were a queer lot of people, raising gardens and prize winning vegetables. Some had favored the dull suburbs like Hobbiton rather than the farmlands. When the Red Dragon moved Bilbo to Mount Gundabad, she thought she'd hate the rural atmosphere. But it actually grew on her because it was more honest than the aggressively tended lawns of her youth. There were ragged meadows, with sheep munching them. There were miles of pine forest, and the outline of the Misty Mountains everywhere you looked.  

Too much was in motion in their lives, moods changing every ten minutes with the abrupt change in action because of said moods. The tension after Fili departed with Dwalin had left the conversation burned to ashes.  Of course, Dwalin had been called, arriving with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.  Balin would want as much backup as possible to get the situation under control. The only problem was the hows and the whys of the violent collusion between uncle and nephew.  No one had said much afterwards, even Thorin had disappeared rather than be grilled by his cousins.  Or shamed.  Balin had been right.  Why did they fight with each other when Smaug would do it much faster?

Flicking the switch on the dishwasher, Bilbo grabbed the last of the dishtowels for the wash. Menial labor had a way of keeping the hands busy to free up the mind. She had to admit the meal had been fantastic, the rich aroma of spices that had never blended on her tongue until she had been ripped out of her life.  Belladonna had a simple approach in the kitchen, teaching Bilbo the same path.  Food was hardy and uncomplicated, tasty only in the barest terms.  But desserts were the ultimate challenge, the real craft. 

Dori had made cinnamon apple cobbler with a few splashes of apple brandy. Well, to be honest, he had made a few.  Thorin liked them, Dori explained, trying to put forth the idea that eating cobbler for breakfast was just like have fruit tarts or turnovers with coffee.  Looking into the fridge at the round pie dish, Bilbo decided right there to be convert to that mentality.  Maybe for brunch, or elevensies.

The laundry room was her destination, just off the well-stocked pantry.  She didn’t want to be unkind when Dori had called it a pantry but in Bilbo’s honest opinion, it looked like a converted coat room.  Bagend’s pantry was the size of a normal bedroom, complete with a chest freezer and additional fridge.  The sakes above there was only one oven in the kitchen and no separate wine fridge. Food was serious business in Shire County.

Bilbo smiled as she laid out the wet rags that had been used to clean up the counters.  The washer and dryer set might have been white once, yet now bore a light yellow cast.  Top loading with agitators, Bilbo guessed them to be about ten years old.  Confident that they had less computer chips in them than a desktop computer, she looked them over to make sure she could operate the model.  Being in high style wasn’t on Thorin’s do list, nor was wasting money on the latest and greatest.  He had struck her as a purely functional individual, needing the bare necessities like his bike, beer and pussy.

A basket of used towels already lay to one side, pitched in from the door since they had not all achieved a place.  Balled up hand towels and thick bath sheets in different colors that corresponded with different lavatories. Now, she knew where hers had disappeared to each morning.  It had been a bit frightening to go to her room and find that Dori had been in there, cleaning and making up her bed, like she was in a hotel or that it wasn’t really her space.

_It isn’t really your room._

The words boarded her thoughts in short order, clinching her gut as her hands reflexed on the cool metal of the washer.  She was getting too comfortable there in Durinson House.  Thorin was kind enough to let her stay, protect her from getting snapped up again by Smaug or worse Azog.  Frodo was safe, safer than what Bilbo might be able to provide on her own.  So why not indulge a little? Make some beautiful memories?

Tonight wasn’t the only time she had felt this pull, a ripe strain. Bilbo was always aware of him it seemed. When he walked into a room, she felt him, like a change in the air pressure. Just an oblique glimpse of him was all it took to put her on high alert. Bilbo didn’t want to be so sensitive to him. It’s just that she didn’t know how to stop.  Except maybe leave and get on with her life.  It didn’t sound as much fun as she had once thought.

The temptation to jump into the bed with Thorin wasn’t going anywhere either. Her body didn’t seem to have received the memo that she wasn’t interested in sex with the King under the Mountain. Probably because she kept fantasizing about all kinds of things that could lead to nakedness with said majesty. Plus all the delightful things he could do with his scepter.

“Such an idiot!”  Bilbo hissed as she grabbed the towels from the floor to load them into the machine.

She crammed, harder than was needed as she tilted the basket on its side.  The lavender and fuchsia towels that she knew were in her bathroom fell out, followed by thick burgundys.  Not recognizing these, Bilbo pulled one out to run a hand across the fiber.  Still slightly damp, she leaned over to put her nose to the fabric.  Yep, it was Thorin’s. Inhaling the sweet scent of Aramis teased her nose, pulling her back to those nights where she had become so intimately close to him.  The taste of him, the feel of his body against her own as he fucked her.

The sense memory would always have a trigger, not that she needed a reminder.  Thorin was there every damn day.  Bilbo poured in the detergent then slammed the lid closed, huffing in annoyance when she grabbed the wet dishtowels and tossed them in as well.  She jabbed the setting into use a little harder than was strictly necessary, but it was better for her let go of some of her frustration. Better it be something like an innocent appliance rather than someone.

There was something too much like bitterness that laced her actions rather than uncontrollable anger. Bilbo made herself straighten out one foot before the other to leave the room. Too many sleepless nights before she was liberated had put her emotions outside of the normal range. Too much of too much. Fear, anger, helplessness. It was a wonder that she hadn’t cracked up in that place, a testament to an indomitable will.  Now, she was in a place of safety, trying to depose a madman.  Her silver linings had a bad habit of turning into lead. 

Thorin had been missing since the blowup with Fili earlier, his disappearance a weight around her heart.  The damage between the two men was getting worse, neither really thinking of what they were saying but literally punching the other with the force of their personality and emotions. Thorin had not grasped the fact that Fili was angry over their friends dying.  Most of the people at Erebor were, but it was Fili who gave their fury a voice.  He was the only one so far that would stand up and yell at the Oakenshield for the loss they all shared.

Coming down the hall, Bilbo cut off unnecessary lights. She gained the kitchen once more, moving about the large space with ease. The smells of a baked things always soothed her. The lights in the alcove den were off, even the recessed lighting overhead.  The gas logs were set on low in the fireplace, lit by Balin after they cut off the TV mounted over the mantel. Dori was gone with Ori, all the others were home by now since Tauriel had returned.  Glorin had left with his missus not long ago, telling of the wild card’s success. No doubt, Thorin was pleased.   

Based upon Tauriel’s success, Bilbo would need lists of what she remembered of Smaug’s operation.  If Thorin's peace of mind depended on the redhead promising to be a sweet and careful little girl, he'd be smart to get used to chaos. The Wild Card was going to be his best chance at getting his home back from the Orcs and Spiders.  That meant Bilbo would have to get her hands a little dirty, probably more than once.  Dol Gundur should be next she decided as she moved absently around the kitchen, tidying up while the towels washed.  She would go to bed once they were in the dryer. 

The large dishes used in the meal tonight had been left out in the drainer on the marble counter.  The heat that pumped to through the house had dried them quickly, allowing Bilbo to put them way.  She carefully hung the pots in the overhead pot rack, not wanting the clatter to make it to Thorin.  The tall ceilings in the halls and open rooms had a way of funneling sound in the oddest ways.  Taking a large clear mixing bowl, Bilbo crossed the room heading for the pantry.

“Any cobbler left?”

The question floated from the darkened seating area, a disembodied rasp that left her a bit weak in the knees.  Bilbo was proud of her reaction to this unexpected individual.  He hadn’t snuck up on her, probably coming in the den while she was in the laundry room.  Looking over her shoulder, Thorin walked out of the den. The light from the gas logs burned his edges with reds and golds in a spectacular corona. 

The white knuckle grip on the bowl was the only sign of her anxiety. The gleam in his eye was speculative, watching her movements and judging each for a sign of her mood.  She could only say that at this moment, she had no idea of what her mood was.  Her thoughts had hopped out the window.

“I’ll see.”  Bilbo straightened herself, putting the bowl down on the counter as she approached the fridge. 

She knew that there was more, a full dish.  The activity gave her time to figure out a path that kept branching without her permission. Biblo could hear Thorin’s boots on the hardwood walking in her direction, making her feel slightly vulnerable. She didn’t like that, really didn’t like not knowing where he was in the room and she could keep an eye or two on him. He had snuck up a few times. It didn’t end well for her libido.  Pulling the cobbler out and placing it on the counter, Bilbo walked around the island to have it between them.  He watched her as she moved, pacing her on the other side.

His lip was swollen a bit from earlier, slightly discolored too.  Thorin’s shoulders were sagging a little, the pressure was getting to him like everyone else.  Bilbo wanted to feel badly for him to reach out and ease his hurts. It mattered little to her that he had brought it on himself.  There was a barbed wire band around her lungs, squeezing her breath into pants at the sight of him.  It hurt to see him like this.  

Bee fiddled with the placemats on the marble bar, watching him scoop out the cobbler into a bowl. “You picked a fight with Fili for no reason.”

So much for her trying to stay out of this brawl.  Thoin’s spoon stopped its work midway, frozen in the air by her statement. The deliberate movement of hand and utensil was slowly drawn out while Thorin weighed her words.  Balin would have chewed his ass after Fili left for the Ironworks. Obviously, the Oakenshield wondered if this was round two.

“One day Fili will be in charge and he will understand what it means _to be in charge_. He can’t question me before others like that; he has to fall in line like a good soldier and accept.” The big man scowled in the weak light from the fireplace. “You cannot risk the fate of the many for the sake of one. Not even if that one is kin.”

Idiot, Bilbo thought, stubborn idiot male.  Fili would never walk away from Kili or his mother.  Bilbo was surprised that Kili had left for Paris.  The only thing she could glean from that was that Dis had pushed him to go.  Nothing less would have broken up so close a family unit.  

“I don’t think that parable is going to work with him.  Fighting him like you did tonight will only drive him away.” She whispered as she watched him.

“No! He’s needed here. Fili might have screwed up in college but he isn’t Kili.” Thorin grumbled, then spoke softly. “He’s made of stronger stuff than his brother.”

His tone tugged at something inside, something that she didn’t want to acknowledge.  Bee had been an only child; there had never been favorites in her house, only her.  It was obvious that Fili had been the Thorin’s golden boy, the one he pushed to be more and do more.  Mindful of the snapped attraction between them, Bilbo walked further into the kitchen so she wouldn’t get mired in his lost expression.

“Then why did you fight with him?  I would think that with Kili gone, you might have stopped pushing so hard at the ones who are left.”

“I don’t know why I went after him.”  Thorin’s eyebrow flagged up his forehead in that sexy curious way. His penetrating gaze found her and closed the distance until it felt like he was touching her body rather than looking. “Have I pushed you too hard, Bee? Do you want to leave here too?”

Bilbo felt her heart leap into her throat, busying herself by pulling spices from the cabinet for a rub she wanted to try. The rough silk tone of his voice was better than that prince albert on his cock.  Shivers dug into her shoulder blades, forcing her to fight the instinct to shake the sensation away.  It was hard to ignore, his deep baritone that made her sex spasm in remembered pleasure. How low his groans had been in her neck when he came, the tight grasp of his hands on her body.

“I’m no one special, Thorin. It doesn’t matter if you push me. Bagend is my home and I hope to see it again one day. You can have the house all to yourself again.”

 She kept her back to him, refusing to allow him to see how badly she didn’t want to say such things.  The pain of leaving doused the flames in her body to ash, a cold wet feeling of nothingness replaced them. There was a warble in her voice, a heat in the back of her throat that always signaled a tear fest.

“The hateful awful things I’ve done in my life, I’ll never be clean of those dead faces who wake me out of my nightmares.” Bilbo told him as hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. The words sounded thick, but the ones that followed were tiny and breathless. “Purgatory is too good for people like me.”

People who betray, those who stand aside and let evil pass. _Lobelia._   The woman wasn’t innocent, but she hadn’t deserved to be Azog’s plaything. Bilbo had orphaned the woman’s children and widowed Otho in an attempt to learn Smaug’s house.  In the end, it hadn’t worked and Lobelia had been raped and murdered for nothing.

“How could your sins ever be greater than mine? I'm bad and I'm going to hell for it, and I don't care. I'd rather be in hell with you than anywhere else alone. ” Thorin pulled her into his arms, thumbing away her tears.

At that moment, Bilbo couldn’t say why she had been fighting this. It was tender, loving and everything she wanted.  It was things she had glimpsed at Halloween, the soft underbelly of some wild beast that lets you touch it. The gentle sweep of his thumbs at her face, holding her there was also removing her inhibitions.

Before he could say something that would totally kill the mood, Bilbo leaned up and covered his lips with her own. After a few beats, Thorin took control of the kiss and any vows of chastity were quickly forgotten. When he did that flickering thing with his tongue, she forgot her own name.  After a few minutes, Bilbo had to pull away with a moan. The separation didn’t last long, not with those his blue eyes of his that looked so gravitational. When he leaned down for more, she met him halfway. 

The next kiss was tentative as if he wasn’t sure of his reception. The light flick of tongue on her lips requesting entry, yet not demanding.  An anomaly, completely outside his nature to ask.  It was the pressure of fingers digging into her hips that shocked her into gasping against his mouth. Thorin took it as permission, tilting his head for a better angle to slip inside.

This kiss was all about heartache. It was deep and sweet and sad. Feelings quivered with disbelief that she was holding him, and kissing him. Each moist slide of his lips against Bilbo’s undid the knots that bound her up a little. It was possibly the best kiss she’d ever had.

A gust of wind blew in the room and the click of the door signaled the arrival of another.  Bilbo pulled away to see Gandalf with a pleasantly neutral expression on his face, finished stamping off the snow from his boots.  “Thorin, we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... this chapter got away from me.. This week has been personal hell but I think I am getting on track lol..
> 
> There won't be any menages with Fili, Sigrid and Tauriel.. She was just having an off night due to blood loss, drugs and unresolved horny feelings.. lol.. Her and Kili will be humping like bunnies when he gets here... then the shit hits the fan. lol


	25. Inventory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 19 10:00 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel's pov
> 
> No warnings

Mornings were early, Tauriel’s unlovable time of day.  Rolling out of bed, she checked herself for stray exposure.  Never mind that Fili was probably gone and Sigrid was bouncing somewhere in the Courtyard.  She wasn’t sure who might have popped over and didn’t need an eyeful of pasty white skin.  Her silk pajamas were hair clashingly purple, a gag gift from one of the Company a few weeks ago. Completely impractical for a New Hampshire winter. The halter style top gaped under her arms, emphasizing her lack of bust. The bottoms were two sizes too big, looking like men’s basketball shorts.

Pushing her long hair out of her face, she walked out into the main cabin for some coffee to accompany her into the shower. Her white chenille socks muffled her progress on the wood floors, the polyurethane giving her a gliding feeling. Tauriel knew she might as well get the caffeine intake started. Slouching in that department made her grumpy, upsetting the rest of what should be a carefully structured day.  The Keurig hummed as she waited, pulling the milk and Splenda to tame the black gold into submission.

The door opened behind her, making her wipe around and clamp a hand to her top.  The wind of the motion bagged the smooth material in unpleasant ways. Oin and Gloin Durinson stamped inside, ignoring her momentary embarrassment. The brothers were buddled in thick coats and heavy pants against the obviously cold morning.  Chilled fingers of air breezed across the space, wrapping her in goose flesh. 

Leaning out to gauge the time, Tauriel called from the kitchen. “What some coffee?”

Oin left his bag on the table and joined her.  “None for me. Gloin needs to cut back too.”

“My wife owns a coffee shop.”  The big ginger gruffed from the door. “How long do you think that will last?”

The images of Mrs. Gloin popped in her mind as she stirred in the milk and substitute.  No doubt, the little woman had put some of the strong brew in Gimli’s bottle.  The whole family should be rife with hypertension.

Oin pulled a box of tea out from the cupboard, forcing Tauriel out of the way.  She walked into the living area while the bushy white haired medic made himself at home.  The fact that he knew that there where the tea was and the cups was just another example of how involved everyone was in everyone’s life.  It was unlikely that any of them locked their doors at night.  They each raided the other’s home in a sort of hive that was both comforting and suffocating. 

Kili had not really been away from that since college.  It had taken him all these weeks to find his stride at a new job and a new home in a new country.  Tauriel knew that it was hard, everything he had given up; it just made her more determined.  One day, they might move home. She would ensure that he had a home to come back too.

“Let’s see the arms.”  Oin pulled a chair from the kitchen near the coffee table.  A mug of hot water slowly discolored around the tea back lazing in its depths.

Standing, Tauriel held out her arm at the older stitches from a few days ago.  The red line looked a little angry but the black threads still pulled the skin together. Oin hadn’t used surgical glue at the time, stating that he wanted to her body to have the option tear at the stitches rather than the whole line of flesh.  The flexibility would be better for Tauriel since she had no plans to slow down her fighting.

Oin took some A&D Ointment, smearing it on the seam.  He made distracted noises as she looked at her newer ones from last night.  Purple blotches litter her arm where she had rolled on the pavement.  Even her back was twingy from Nori treating it like a spring board.

Gloin stood on the mat, waiting patiently during his brother’s examination. It never failed to amuse her how alike the brothers were only in different shades.  Fili and Kili had the same issue.  Her confusion from last night came back in a rush, prompting her to turn to the healer.

“What exactly did you give me last night?  I had some odd dreams.”  There was no other way to explain her reactions last night other than to go into a full explanation of stuff that Oin never need to know.

“I gave you some penicillin and a little bit of Demerol for pain.  Used Morphine on your last year.”  The wrinkles around the old man’s eyes deepened in merriment. “I won’t do that again.”

Last November, Legolas had sliced her back open in an attempt to shot Kili.  Her fiancé still got mad every time he looked at the scar. The meds had knocked her for a loop. Keenly aware of her lack of dress, Tauriel backed away with a smile of gratitude and nothing else.  Opioids could be blamed for only so much.

“We need to discuss your food intake.  What have you eaten today already?”  Oin made some notes in his phone as he spoke.

“Half a cup of coffee with cream.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” Gloin barked from the door, folding his arms in dismay.  His expression was no better. “It’s almost 10.”

“I have been up for a total of 5 minutes.”  There was no reason to get huffy with Gloin for showing his concern.  It reiterated her thoughts about needing a butt load of coffee today.

Rolling her shoulders, Tauriel walked into the kitchen again. Cutting two brownies into bite size, she systematically stuffed them into her mouth.  The chocolate tasted good with the coffee, striking up her appetite for more.  Humming to herself as she chewed, Tauriel placed the now empty mug under the instant coffee maker for more.

“I want you to look at protein supplements.  I am texting Gloin a list since you are going to Dale.  There is a vitamin place not far from the grocery store.”  Oin’s thick fingers flew over the screen as multiple corresponding dings sounded from Gloin’s pocket.

“Why are you giving it to Gloin if it’s for me?”  Confused, Tauriel looked from one brother to the other as she wiped her mouth of crumbs.

“Fili said no one goes out alone.” Gloin pulled out his phone to look at the texts. “Even you.  I will go with you today and probably Stone or Bofur if he has left Kingdom.  The sister in law has been gripping about his drinking around the kids.”

Tauriel knew that Bofur liked his alcohol. No doubt, he had been throwing more than a few back since Bombur was killed.  If he was hung over, Bofur wouldn’t provide anything but a liability if they got jumped.  Tauriel hadn’t known Bombur well, but that wouldn’t preclude her from paying respects.  She wasn’t the reason he was dead, though she was a factor.

She could understand why Fili wanted everyone in pairs.  Smaug would know by now that his shipment didn’t arrive last night. A single person was a target, more than one was a fight.  Tauriel knew she could handle herself.  However, that only went so far.  Even she could be overwhelmed.

“When his Bombur’s funeral?”  She asked as she pulled out some bread for a sandwich.  She had seen some chicken salad in a container on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

“There isn’t one.  He will be cremated with a memorial service tomorrow morning.” Oin spoke up after he tucked his phone in a pocket. “Don’t try and slip off without Gloin.  You will never make it off the Mountain.”

She grimaced at the old man with his bushy white hair, frustrated that he might have read her so easily.  Once upon a time, Tauriel might have fooled people, letting them think what they wished.  Now, the more she was around the Durin’s Folk, the easier it came to letting little things slip by her.  It was maddening.

“You think those guys can stop me if I want to leave?”

“No, I don’t.”  Oin told her as he packed up for the door. “But is it necessary to test that theory?”

Reluctantly, Tauriel had to agree. The MC members who stood the road were helping, not her targets. Finishing her second cup, she packed off to the bathroom.  A shower was in order and at least another cup before she left.

***********

Gloin was sitting in the front seat of a four wheel drive diesel Ford. She was fully of the opinion that if Gloin wanted to be her chauffer, he was more than welcome.  The light blue color blended with the sparkly diamonds airbrushed on the doors, signifying this was an Erebor vehicle. Shadows moved in the backseat, yet none were immediately discernable. One was taller than the other, otherwise they were unknown. Tauriel was collecting quite a posse. Thorin and Nori had proven themselves along with Bofur.  If at all possible, she would like to keep them together.

As she approached the truck, Tauriel could see Dwalin in the distance talking to Thorin.  Their argument, and that was what it was, couldn’t be heard over the distance.  Thorin was almost shimmered with rage, a minute crackling in the long tail of hair that hung down his back.  Finally, Dwalin reared back from his cousin, shaking his head as he left.  Thorin stomped off toward Durinson house, literally stomping his way as if he were trying to push his boot through the bedrock.  It looked like a child’s tantrum.

Climbing into the rig, Tauriel nodded to Bofur and Stone in the backseat.  She jerked her thumb in Thorin’s general direction. “Any idea what that is all about?”

“I imagine that would be Erebor business.” Gloin said with a huff. 

Wondering about the argument she had witnessed, Tauriel pulled her knit cap down over her ears. Oin was different from his brother, given her any information when she asked. Gloin was more conservative, practical. He knew more secrets than just about anyone except Balin and Dwalin. It wasn’t because he was in the immediate circle of trust but because he was the one responsible for making the payments and balancing the books.

 

Tauriel tucked herself close to the door, shifting around the two long bladed knives at her back didn’t poke the seat. She pulled her dark green sweater down so that the fleece concealed the sheathes tied to the plain belt.  They would be out in public today, no point in scaring locals unless it was necessary. Gloin was without his giant scimitar, though she had no doubt he was armed in some fashion. Stone shifted in the backseat, rearranging himself with his crossbow.  He might raise an eyebrow but his weapon of choice wasn’t like carrying a foot and half sword on her hip or Gloin’s curved monstrosity.

It wasn’t oppressive silence that descended in the cab, just a drought on conversational topics.  Stone was a talker but you had to give him a reason to talk.  The russet haired accountant hadn’t sought her company in the past, making her wonder if they had any common interests besides the Durinsons or killing Orcs.  Bofur, well, something needed to be said since she had not gotten to Kingdom as yet to offer her condolences.

Looking back over her shoulder to the pair, Tauriel whispered. “I am sorry about Bombur.  How is your family?”

Bloodshot eyes met hers, deeply tired and saggy.  If he has slept, she couldn’t tell.  There had been excess flesh on Bofur’s face that his beard didn’t hide. Now, most of it was bruised and sullen.  He was grieving for his brother.  He hadn’t worn his hat either.

“We’re doing.  Thank you for asking.”  His voice was as rough as a rockslide and just as crushing. “Thank you too for what you are doing, Tauriel.  This needed getting done a long time ago.”

Gloin snorted at her side, in hocking disagreement.  She would never heard of him speak ill of Thorin or any of the other Durinsons.  It just wasn’t in Gloin’s nature.  As the company accountant, he was a fundamental cog in the great machine that was Erebor Ironworks and Gem Mine.  Like Balin, he had supported Thorin against his father, Thrain, years ago.  To go against Thorin’s administration would make his look like a hypocrite or open a debate about Gloin’s choices and his capacity to do his job.  That was something his practical brain would not accept.

“Don’t thank me. Not yet.”

There was still too much left to thin down the Orcs and Spiders, more cutting to kill of the body. Smaug’s operation was immense but there had to be limits to the manpower he could draw.

Stone piped up from behind Tauriel. “Is Gimli coming home soon?”

Gloin shook his head, looking askance to the female at his right. “No, not until spring break. He said something about getting a jump on course work for summer school.  I swear that boy was never so dedicated when he lived at home. It’s almost like Gimli is a completely new person.”

“He’s growing up.” Bofur supplied. “Gimli always had the makings of Durinson.”

Staring out the window, Tauriel let her mind wonder as they rolled out to the black top. The drive was marked for her in flashes of green and brown.  Daylight gave Tauriel a clue of all the placements for the additional guards along Mountain Road.  Fire barrels blazed along in the morning light, giving a perimeter of warmth to those who stood outside.  The same barrels also gave away their positions at the darkness.

“Are there patrols along the road at night?” She asked as another group of Iron Hills bikers whipped by. 

“Some.”  Stone answered. 

He had more of the information since the bikers belonged to his father’s club.  Tauriel kept her thoughts about Dain to herself, never having cared for him.  It was quite a shock to find that Stone was so amiable. Watching him with Ori was a treat, the pair were totally in love.  Tauriel felt another ache in his chest where her heart lay.  So many people in love, dancing in their happiness.  Even Bilbo was making googly eyes at Thorin and he to her when no others watched.

“When is the next hit?”  Stone asked.

“No idea, yet.  We will know more after we get a good look at those cases.”  She replied.

“There was no need to give Beorn so much.”  Gloin grumbled. “There was Erebor blood there too!”

“Like mine?  Like yours?”  Bofur snarked from the rear, unafraid of Gloin’s bristling. “Like hers?”

Shifting away from the coming groused arguments, Tauriel began to strategize. Guerrilla tactics like what Tauriel and Beorn were using would be more effective long term.  It was demoralizing to the enemy when they are being systematically cut off from vital supplies.  The Orcs and Spiders were not different than any other terrorist group, but they loved their internet and Dish Network. An EMP would almost be poetic. The redhead thought to mention that they might try blasting rock music at Dol Guldor for a few hours. Then attack heavy, using a dump truck as a battering ram.

They rolled into town, parking at the backside of Mrs. Gloin’s coffeeshop, The Grind.  Gloin left the diesel run for a few minutes while the others got out. Rolling her shoulders, Tauriel looked around to see if there were any immediate threats.  Seeing none, she shut the door as Bofur and Stone opened the backdoor into the coffee shop.  The smell of diesel was replaced with the cutting bite of roasting beans.  The pure caffeine intake might be achieved without drinking, just walking around the shop and sniffing the air. 

The business was steady for a cold day.  Mrs. Gloin came out to greet them with a nod as they walked through.  She scurried out the back, the sharp green of her caftan whipped behind her as she opened the back door.  Tauriel smiled at the woman’s enthusiasm, hoping that Kili and she would be just as excited to see each other at their age.

The café had not changed, the décor bent in lines of the lady proprietor’s homeland. She had gone to many lengths to make this place a calm environment, a haven.  Old people, young people, and the touristy type alike rubbed elbows on thick rich carpets mushroomed with colorful poofs that acted like tables or arm rests.  Dark wood gleamed with mellow golden tones, warmer than the little potbellied stove that blazed in the corner of the room.

Bofur stepped up to the counter while she looked over the desserts in the case.  The pairings were designed to give the most enhanced flavor to the coffee.  Cinnamon rolls with thick cream cheese spread, chocolate biscotti, chocolate and cherry cupcakes lined up in formation, yet none appealed. Sweets were not a healthy breakfast but the bagels and croissants were too bland. Wrinkling her nose at the offering, she looked out the glass front to King’s Drive just beyond it.

“I’m going next door to Sugarlicious and see what they have.” She told in Stone in passing after he lined up.

The light stains of the sitar filtering in the background switched to the glancing touch of cymbals and high drums. It reminded her of what belly dancers twirled to, stamping their feet to the rhythm. It was the kind of music that grabbed you at the hips until you swayed to let go of the energy.  Yes, Tauriel realized, the lack of sex was officially getting to her.

“Wait for me. I won’t be long.” He reached to grab her arm and she left him.  To snap her arm back would be rude and draw attention.

Sighing, Tauriel patted his hand in a vain effort to get away. “It’s just next door.  You will hear the crash if there is a problem.”

She topped it off with a smile that Tauriel knew was entirely guileless. It took work to arrange your facial muscles into an innocent look when your thoughts were anything but. Stone gave her a skeptical eyebrow, yet released her just the same.  Letting the smile get wider, she turned to door without another word.  Bofur and Gloin would notice in a minute, babysitting her with limits of her sanity.  Tauriel appreciated with Fili was trying to do, truly.  However good intentioned, she felt tied down, haltered in a manner that frustrated her. Just walking away into another store without so many people gave her a feeling of relief. 

The wind blew down the quint street, kicking up dust whirls here and there.  Tauriel reached up to tug down the knit cap a little more over her red hair.  The aged look was most popular in these New England towns, reminding the tourist of the fact that New Hampshire was an original colony.  The old world charm of Paris was missing, replaced with a modern feel of the 18th century.  The architecture was simple storefronts of brick and mortar, the red tinge faded over the years to a harsh pink. The park bench where Kili had sat with her last summer was still there, though sporting a new covering of brown paint to hide the weathered wood.  Somethings had changed, while others were the same.  It was a grounding, a solid memory that there was a place in the world that held her happiness just as much as Paris did.

Tauriel gave a glance to Bowman’s Hunting at the corner of King’s and Pine before entering the bakery.  It looked lit up, busy despite being in a typical off season for such activities. Large trucks with ATVs loaded in the beds block her view of the stores to the left of the Mayor’s. His inventory was not just the bladed stock that waged a cold war between Dale’s borders, but ammunition, bows and arrows were sold.  Bard didn’t sell guns at all, keeping with the ordinance that he himself had written.  It just made her a little more anxious to what they had dropped off there.

A deep breath spurred her memories of the decadent delights waiting on the other side of the window. She resisted the urge to burst into Sugarlicious with the single mind determination of a tornado -hyper and reserved were not exactly relatives in the English language. There were few places that had this effect upon her senses. Olfaction ruled her body, flushing her reasoning. The smell of sugar and warm fruit welcomed Tauriel even before she stepped fully into the shop. Like The Grind, the aroma pooled at the back of mouth, reminding her of almost criminal delight she took in sweets.  She slipped into the shop and took her place quietly at the end of the line of middle-aged women, failing utterly at being inconspicuous.

Two of the gray haired women she didn’t know rolled their eyes in her direction, completely convinced she was some tourist with no manners. A lady directly in front turned to see what was bouncing behind her. She was supposed to maintain a practiced calm when she was out where people could see her, but it was difficult. There were sweets, then there was chocolate.  Tauriel smiled at the woman, though it came out as half smirk. The woman huffed at Tauriel’s impatience, then turned forward again in line.  

 Tauriel allowed herself a full smirk now, taking another step forward. It was the taste, the texture on her tongue but also it was something she had shared with Kili often.  Not just in Paris, but here.  Carrock was fudge and cinnamon pound cake, Paris was rich chocolate cake. But Dale was cupcakes and muffins, park benches and the darkness of a Ford truck cab.  The mixing flavor of icings when she would kiss him afterwards. The best parts of her relationship with Kili had involved food of some type.  It was a wonder she didn’t pack on pounds from the constant gorging.

The lady in front of her moved, allowing Tauriel to advance.  She would have to hit the stores after they left Bard to get this protein powder that Oin had talked about earlier.  It made no sense, why couldn’t she just drink ensure once or twice a day? 

“How may I help you?” A dark haired young girl stood behind the counter with a bland expression.  She must have had a long day already to barely be able to summon a smile.  

Looking over the case of goodies, Tauriel made a snap decision.  “A pumpkin butterscotch muffin, please.”

After scarfing so much of Sigrid’s brownies, she didn’t have the stomach for more chocolate at the moment.  The Death by Chocolate cupcakes would have to wait until another time. Tauriel slipped her card that she kept in her phone case to pay.  She spied a case full of mini cheesecakes of different flavors that almost sent her into convulsions.  The redhead could feel her butt spreading just looking at the yumminess behind the thick glass.  Some things in life were just not fair.

Taking the pastry in a plastic wrapper and her receipt, Tauriel turned to the door only to halt four feet away.  Through the window, she noticed two men across the street that had not been there when she walked into the bakery.  One was sitting on the bench, his arms flung out along the back of it.  A second man stood to the sitting man’s right with his back against the truck of a winter stripped tree.  The one on the bench looked down the street then would turn back to his companion.  Both wore black with a deep red bands on the forearms of their fleece sweaters.  It could be nothing, or they could be Orcs.  Yet, it was brazen as hell to wear your colors out in that fashion, flaunting their allegiance in broad daylight. 

There were few people on the street but the ones that were, walked quickly passed the pair with their heads down.  Those pedestrians minutely watched the pair as they hurried along, in the same manner that prey animals do before a carnivore.  It was like they wanted to make sure they didn’t attract undo attention or could run at the first sign of trouble.

Tauriel stood by the door, pulling up her contact list on her phone.  Stone’s number wasn’t in her phone but Bofur’s was.  Punching up the number, the dial tone trilled in her ear.

“Yeah?”  He answered.

“Bofur, are you and Stone still at the Grind?”  She trained her eyes on the men as she spoke, aware that people in the bakery were suddenly paying attention.

“Yes, and you are _not,_ missy!  Where did you scamper off too?”  The Lombard took a deep swallow of coffee, letting the gulp resonate through the line.

“Get Stone.  Walk outside of the shop and stand by the street’s edge.  Two men in black and red half a block right side of Bard’s store.”  She ended the call as she walked out of the store. 

Two doors down, Stone and Bofur hit the pavement.  Stone slung his crossbow over his right shoulder as he walked. Bofur looked around for her, locking onto her position rather than watching the two men.  The three met up, the Lombard holding his mattock just behind the metal head.  Tauriel indicated the men with a flick of her chin.  The pair hadn’t moved, still talking without realizing they were being watched. Both wore black skull caps to keep their clean shaved heads warm. 

“Think they’re Orcs?”  Bofur asked as he crushed his empty cup.  He tossed it in the receptacle a foot away.

“Could be.”  Stone answered for them, looking down the street. “Can’t see what they’re driving. Nothing sticks out on the street.”

Orcs mostly drove SUVs in red or black.  There were a few cars and trucks but they too were of a black and red color scheme.  Spiders drove trucks in the winter instead of the bikes, old ones that looked like they had been resurrected from a junkyard and pressed into service. 

Tauriel finished her muffin, tossed the wrappers into the waste basket. “It’s smarter to park on a side street and leave a third man behind the wheel.  These feel like scouts, they watch everything.”

The one who was leaning against the tree finally noticed them across the street.  He straightened away, murmuring to his companion.  They were Orcs, Tauriel surmised as the one on the bench jumped to his feet.  Taller of the pair, he turned to face them. The other stepped away from the tree, putting a hand in his pocket.  Their attention was centered on Stone with his crossbow, making her regret not bringing her bow.  The Orcs had keyed upon the Durinson, thinking he was the immediate threat. 

“So they’re scouting?  I wonder _what_ they’re scouting?”  Bofur asked out the side of his mouth.  “Let’s take them and see what they know.”

“Not a bad idea.  But we aren’t prepared for that sort of thing.”  Her curiosity was up, though. “Let’s test a theory.”

Slowly, she reached behind her waist to pull one of the knives out the sheath.  At the same time, Tauriel took off her knitted cap.  Flipping the blade the length side of her arm, she folded the hat against handle to cover it up.  Tauriel wasn’t fooling the Orcs, not in the least.  From the moment her dark red hair became visible, both men forgot that Bofur and Stone existed.  Their attention followed her movement, seeing the minute flash of steel in the weak morning light.  The shorter one who had been standing almost bared his teeth at her while the taller one who had been sitting looked a little scared.  There was a dark patch on the scared one’s neck, possibility a tattoo.  He could be a Spider who graduated to an Orc.

Both men started to walk away further down King’s drive away Bowman’s Hunting, keeping the three of them in their sights.  The scared one looked back down the street, in the direction of Bard’s store once or twice before they disappeared around the corner to a side street. He didn’t have the experience yet to be cool about surveillance.  Bilbo had said that Smaug had been watching Bard, she hadn’t realized that it was so brash and out in the open.

“Want to follow them?”  Stone asked as he took a good grip on the stock of the weapon. “They ran as soon as they realized that it was you.”

Of course, they did, Tauriel thought.  They were just eyes on, nothing else.  She couldn’t say what their orders were but it was obviously not to engage.  They would run back to Azog and tell him she was on the street today and anything else they knew.    

“No, come with me.  Bofur, go tell Gloin to stay put with Mrs. G and stay with them.”  Tauriel walked to the crossing, waiting for the cars to stop so she get to the other side. It was a slow ambling pace, like she had all the time in the world.

Bofur grumbled but he went.  Tauriel didn’t want to take the risk of two Orcs suckering them into an ambush. The weapons were important; they were the reason for the trip.  Not a snatch and run.  Stone stuck to her right side as they gained the opposite sidewalk. Some young hunters exited the store as Tauriel and Stone entered, their camo toned clothes crispy new. The doorbell chimed when they entered the store despite the fact that the door hadn’t closed completely.  The old bell that had hung from the overhead hinge had been replaced with an electronic sensor that detected if someone walked underneath it. Much more efficient.

There were a one or two others shopping or just looking about the well-spaced aisles.  There were all manner of hunting accessories offered, though Bard had begun to shift more to the fishing side.  A long bank of rods in various sizes lined the windows were a knife case used to be.  There were other additions and subtractions to the assortment of supplies.  The shelves themselves were lower now, five feet high so that anyone could be seen at a glance from behind the counters that ran down two of the opposite walls.

Bard looked up at them when they walked in, his eyes narrowing before he turned back to his customers. He hadn’t been the most welcoming last night either, no ‘hi there’ or ‘it’s been too long, how’s the family?’  Bowman was in a bad spot in this bloody tug of war. Like everyone else in the county, he didn’t want to get stuck between a Dragon and the Oakenshield and become collateral damage.

Handing his patrons to the cashier that Tauriel thought looked vaguely familiar, he motioned them to the back room. His plaid shirt was tucked into blue jeans worn white at stress points.  Lanky and thin, his ruffled brown hair was showing a little gray than she remembered. Bard unlocked the reinforced door, then punched a security code into the keypad.  Stone went first, nodding to the Bowman who held the door for them.

“How’s the arm?”  He asked her when she walked by, looking over her limbs.  Bard’s eyebrow flicked up as Tauriel tucked the knife back into the belt sheath. “Problems?”

“You had two Orcs watching the store.  Did you know?” 

The back storeroom was spacious and neat. Tauriel had to give credit to Bard, he ran a very organized business.  With all the federal agencies that take an unhealthy interest in the average business owner, being the proprietor of a sporting goods store would make most feel like an ant under a microscope.  All the shelves were labelled with the appropriate names to let a person know what they were seeing as well as make inventory easier.  The building itself had been a bank twenty years ago when Bard had bought it.  Now, he used the old vault as his heavy storage while the front had been remodeled with glass cases for other things. 

“Of course and so does everyone else.” The tall man replied as pulled two boxes from under a rack. “I keep telling Thorin and Thranduil that.  deGray is trying but there’s only so much he and Beorn can do.”

Stone looked at her, his lips quirking.  Tauriel wasn’t a mind reader, though she was thinking the same thing as Dain’s boy.  If they could drive all over the county blowing up Smaug’s hideouts and taking his shipments, why couldn’t they help out here too? At least clear out some of the Orcs and Spiders that had been milling out on the streets?

“I think we can help you with that. You did after all hold this stuff for us last night.”  Tauriel reared back for a minute, looking at two boxes. “What happened to the plastic containers?”

Bard grinned as he opened up the top of the box closest to him. “They went with Beorn.  A free show for the Azog’s guys. Of course, I had to stuff some of my garage into the empty ones to make them look heavy. Beorn promised to drop them off at Mount Gundabad on the way home.  My neighbor’s kitty litter and old wet molding bread gave it a rich aroma.”

The idea of the Azog opening up those container to piles of ripe garage and cat shit tickled her to no end. Tauriel smirked as she pulled the cardboard apart to see what was inside.  The mad Bear would have enjoyed it too, if for no other reason than to heckle his enemy.  Folding down the sides, she could see piles of sheathed weapons with the bigger blades on the bottom.  The leather bindings looked old, not ill cared for, but having seen hard use in their lives. Reverently, she pulled them out to get a better idea of their construction. Tantos, stilettos, and tactical blades of various size and length in were spaced together.  These would be very useful in covert warfare.  The blades were thin enough to puncture up through the rib cage.

At the very bottom, Tauriel pulled out two cases, one stacked upon the other. Stone shrugged taking one while she took the other. Both containers were large about two feet square and ten inches deep with stout handles.  It was a simple flip to open the latches that held the hard plastic case closed.  It didn’t occur to her about booby traps until after the lid banged on the wood table.  By then it was too late.  Tauriel let go of her breath in surprise.

“Wow!” 

Bard chuckled, crossing his arms. “I thought you might like them.”

A gladius blade with intricate carvings lay diagonally in the foam padding.  The hilt was separated and in two parts on both sides.  It would take the work of a minute for her to assemble it back. Blue tinged steel gleamed against the etchings.  The tip of the blade looked wider than the standard but that just meant it would be cause more effective damage.

“Tauriel, look at this!”  Stone’s giddy excitement was infectious.  He swiveled the case he had opened into her direction.

On both sides of the case, strapped in the foam, were parts of a larger sword.  Running a finger along the raised center, Tauriel guessed that it was a little longer than a Scottish claymore but about the same construction. The cross guard was curved like the smaller gladius with the same blue sheen to the metal.  She couldn’t image they were companion swords but they had been made by the same smith based upon the condition of the alloy and its color.  They weren’t knew, however they really hadn’t seen use.  They weren’t ornamental by design, yet entire functional in battle.

“Wow is right!  Bard what’s behind door number two?”  Tauriel chuckled at her own joke as she walked to the second cardboard box that Bard had already opened.

Large blocks of C4 explosive were stacked jenga style, at least forty or more separate bricks.  A cold dread tickled down her back at the sight.  This much composition C could do serious damage.  She could see a spool of detonation cord at the bottom, perfect to wire them together then explode remotely.  The molding style of the plastic meant it could be used anywhere at any time.  Looking at Bard, she noticed that his grin had slipped off his face.

“I’m almost scared to ask what you found in the locked case.”  She told him.  Stone looked worried as he peered into box holding the C4.

Bard walked to the shelving, tugging out a four foot long box labelled as fishing rods. He upended it to let the black case slide into view. The heavy grade polymer was designed to withstand a beating. It made a dull thumping sound when it made contact with the table.  Stone jumped a little at the noise, not that Tauriel could blame him.  If Smaug had pounds of C4 loose in a plastic container, whatever he had locked away must be really bad.

Tauriel fingered the square master lock. “You haven’t opened it.”

Bard huffed at her. “That’s a decoy.”

He motioned her to the other side of the table with Stone.  Bard pointed to indentions at the closed hinges, pinholes really.  “I have seen these in catalogs.  These types of cases are set up to discourage thieves because it takes a certain type of pin pushed in these holes to get them open.  I have no experience with this, so I haven’t tried.”

Bilbo might know how, Tauriel thought, fingering the groove.  She had worked for Smaug long enough to figure out a few tricks of her own. “I know someone who might help.”

Looking at the short gladius case, a plan formed in her mind.  “I will take the C4 and the knives. The blades are distinctive. If you try sell them, it might get back to Smaug and he will know that all of the shipment we stole didn’t go with Beorn this morning.  This thing needs to stay here.”

Tauriel pushed the black case along the table, only to have Bard try to shove it back. The look on his face was angry. “No.  I can’t take the chance that ATF makes a surprise inspection.”

“I don’t know what’s in it.  We can’t take the chance that it’s a bomb meant for Erebor and the Durinsons!” Tauriel pushed a little harder at the tall man. “Do you want to take that chance with Sigrid’s life?  With her child’s?”

No matter how mad at Sigrid Bard might be, he was still her father.  The mention of his eldest daughter crumpled Bowman, wrinkling him like a cheap suit. If she felt shame at pushing those buttons, it was guilt she would think about later.  This was too important to cave in to Bowman.

Looking her friend’s compressed lips, Tauriel spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Bard.  But Smaug wanted this, so that means he can’t have it.”

Bowman shook his head a few minutes, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Two days.  That’s it.  Otherwise, it goes in the dumpster.”

“Stone, call Gloin and ask him to pull the truck around back.” Tauriel took a step to Bard, but the door opened and the cashier came in.

A friendly girl, she smiled at Stone and gave him a wink. “Mr. Bowman, Famon had some questions about what kind of GPS to buy?”

Bard walked out, leaving Tauriel and Stone to repack the knives in the cardboard box.  It was Stone who broke the silence. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.”

No, Tauriel mentally disagreed.  Bowman had his own shit to work out with Fili and Sigrid, it wasn’t good of her to poke at those wounds.  The rumble of a diesel engine outside signaled their ride.  Tauriel went through a mental scroll of who she could call take make up a fire team fight some Orcs in Dale.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update ! yay ! lol.. I have actually been able to carve out time to get this done...   
> Ok everyone knows that Sting and Glamdring were part of the troll horde that the company found..There was just no way that I could pass up putting them in this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Famon is a Dale name that means travels...I thought it was funny that he wanted a GPS.. The girl who was at the counter is the Firiel... who worked at Sugarlicious in the beginning of I'm Bound To You..That's why Tauriel thinks she is familiar.. :o)


	26. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 19 2:50 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's POV a light chapter
> 
> No warnings

“Frodo, I am so glad that Glanwen is teaching you about the forest and plants.  All knowledge is worth having, my dear.”  Bilbo trilled to keep the oppressive silence at bay.  

Once there had been no silences between them, no quiet time except at the dinner table.  Two of the them let words flow like a river, Frodo asking questions and Bilbo searching her study for the answers. Unfortunately, the cell phone felt cold on her ear, colder than the gaping quiet. The pause from her solemn nephew bloated into bullfrog proportions. 

“Tell me, how do you like the food there?”  Bee began again, shifting on her bed. The borrowed sweat pants wound tightly at the thighs but excess length pooled at her ankles.

Dis had brought her Tauriel’s phone earlier for the weekly call. Thorin’s sister had popped in then out, staying one step ahead of Dwalin who as hot on her heels. They missed each other by minutes. Bilbo had run to her room, dialing as she ran.  The flat device was not her nephew, it wasn’t the same as being with him. Just to hear his voice with no restrictions, no double talk was worth its weight in gold.

“It’s good food.”  He answered and nothing more.  Bilbo started to feel like a failure.

“Is it like the kind of food we ate in the Shire?” She ventured on the same track, trying to engage him.

“I don’t remember.”

She closed her eyes at that admission.  Three years shouldn’t have erased his memory, not unless he blocked it out or worse, he didn’t want to talk to her. There was only so much prying she might attempt before it became digging. Frodo was a strong child, resilient. He wasn’t an ever-knowing adult; the poor kid was just expected to act like one.   Bilbo knew there would be rounds of psychologists once they got home.  She just hoped they didn’t try to call her unfit.  

“That’s ok, dear. There will be time for the old memories and making new.”  Bee took a deep breath keep the tears and sadness out of her voice. There was no one in the room to see her wet cheeks. “Once we get home.”

“Yes.”  He agreed in the same monotone, cutting her heart in two. “I should go. Fanhir is going to show me juggling.”

“Well, yes.. I am sure that would be a lot-” The call ended according to a nasally voice recording.  Bilbo squeezed her the bridge of her nose as she pressed end.

Try as she might, she wondered if too much time had passed.  Frodo was so removed her, as if they were polite strangers at a market. Dread felled every corner of her soul, making the tears fall harder.  She had no idea what to do next, no books full of step by step instructions on how to deprogram her sweet boy from whatever had been done to him.  Smaug and Azog might never have touched him, never violated his body but the mind of a nine year old boy is most impressionable. 

Knuckling her eyes, Bilbo walked into her ensuite to wash her face.  Turning the faucet to cold, she pulled a lavender bath cloth from the cabinet behind her.  As always, she was struck by the bath that might have just been a lavatory, but in this house, was so much more.  The walls were painted a faint lavender to pair with the white and lavender tiles on the floor.  The sink was the standard white pedestal along with the commode in its own lavender closet.  The glass block shower was about the same side as regular bath might be with the exception of the white tile bench and shelves.

The most interesting feature in this bath were the glass flowers.  Dori had told her that Thror’s wife found herself alone while her husband worked hard at the mine.  As a consequence to fill her time, she began to blowing glass into different objects.  In the corners as well as along the crown molding were rainbows of ornaments in multiple hues with fuchsia being the most prevalent.  The twists and turns of each petal were distinct, making the bathroom feel like a tropical paradise.  The Bellagio in Las Vegas had the same feeling in their lobby, though this room was much older than the casino.   

This set of guest rooms was obviously suited for a woman or at least, a married couple. There had been others, one in neutral greens and another in white and greys that she had seen. Bilbo hadn’t the guts to ask why Thorin had wanted her in rooms that had such a strong connection to his grandmother.  Wringing out the cold wet cloth and putting it over her eyes for a minute, she considered that it would only matter how the Oakenshield felt about his deceased relative.  So far, it seemed that it was a positive no matter how far away from his room she might be.

Tossing the rag on the side of the side of the sink, the former burglar could allow that her life was a mess.  Not only was she failing to connect with Frodo, Thorin was also an issue.  Gandalf had either the best timing or the worst to interrupt them the way he had last night. The moment they slid together, they both moaned at the heat between them, the desire that licked up their bones, the perfect puzzle fit of each other as they grappled playfully. 

She wanted him, he wanted her. They were done with half measures and stilted conversations. Bilbo wanted an endless night with him, the longest night of her life. There was ecstasy on the horizon, so much just hovering out of reach that it could shut the brain down and put memories to sleep. Then Gandalf comes over to talk about Smaug to which Bilbo left the room.  Her underwear needed to be changed.

At least, she had the presence of mind to keep that part to herself when she spoke with her nephew.  Grabbing Tauriel’s phone, Bilbo closed the door to head to the kitchen to see who was in the house and how they could take her mind off her current problems. It might be wrong to look for a distraction but in light of the fact that she went to bed very very frisky last night, any excuse to think about something else was welcome.

She might be getting ahead of herself, but Bilbo wanted Frodo to meet Thorin. When this was all over, of course. Hopefully, they would have worked out this attraction where they weren’t buzzing with unresolved sexual needs. It would be embarrassing for Bee to try and explain this type of feral reaction. She could feel a blush crepe up her neck as she walked, heating her face as well as her lady parts.  A good starting point might be reminding Frodo of the Hurricane Matthew that ravaged the southeastern US and the Caribbean. _You see, my dear, that wild storm was a tiny fraction of what was going on inside me. I look at Thorin, I soar like an eagle. I’m certain my chest will explode from the exhilaration.  I don’t want to come back to earth when I am with him, just live on a cloud somewhere. And hopefully fuck him until I pass out._

Bilbo gained the kitchen, still fixated on her conversation with Frodo and the Thorin stress she brought on herself. They had shared a kiss after all.  A womb stirring whirlpool of a kiss but who really looks at those things too closely?  She waived to the twins as she walked to the fridge for a water, laying the cell phone on the bar.  The pair were lounging in elegant style, bonelessly relaxed.  Bilbo wanted advice but wasn’t sure if the Twins were the best brains to pick.

“Hey!” A cheerful greeting interrupted her musings along with a blast of cold air.

Sigrid breezed into the room with Gandalf right behind her.  She carried two thick wrapped bundles lovingly with a tote bag full of something. Toeing off her boots, the pregnant girl hopped over rugs into the general direction of the kitchen.  Gandalf held a box with a loaf of bread sticking out the side.  If they were feeding everyone again, there would need to be more than one.  It had become a nightly ritual.  People came, people ate then walked back to Mountain Road or into Dale for another night of fighting.

Gandalf greeted the Luin Twins individually while placing the box on the counter beside them.  Sigrid and Bilbo looked at each other while the trio chattered together. There was an enthusiastic exchange of words that sounded both familiar and not. This wasn’t the first time they had spoken another language, yet so far Bilbo had not been able to place it.  Either it was English based or English was based upon it.

The blonde female began reaching overhead into the pot rack, pulling down two large stock pots. She put them on the burner grills before walking back to the door to remove her coat. Sigrid had more sense than to track a lot of water around the room.

“Do you need any help?”  Bilbo ventured as she began to help unpack the box. 

A bag of onions was the first out, followed by two loaves of hard French bread.  Jars of capers and pickles were pushed to the sides of the box to balance the weight. Lemons, a sprig of bay leaves came next to join it’s fellow ingredients on the granite counter.  Cartons of chicken stock had been sliding along the bottom to mash the plastic containers of butter and sour cream.

“Gandalf? Will you look in the pantry for the grill?  I want to get these fish on now while the other stuff is getting prepared.”  Sigrid pulled off the plaid flannel shirt so that she was only in a thin red long sleeved shirt.

“Second shelf on the left, Gandalf.”  Bilbo said automatically as she took the onions and lemons to the sink. “We are having fish?”

Snickering erupted behind her, in an almost trying fashion. She looked at Sigrid whose eyebrow raised in a question.  Bee could partially hear the innuendo, _You really know where everything is, don’t you? Getting all settled in?_ Trying to get away from things she couldn’t answer, she made a show of lining up the ingredients and getting the cutting boards from a cabinet. Women should have something better to do than to make that such high pitched noises.

“We are having sturgeon. There are quite a few in the Long Lake.  Tauriel brought these back this afternoon.” The light scent of fish grew stronger as Sigrid began to unroll the paper to expose the fillets. “They are weighed so all we have to do grill and put them in the pots.  Should be ready by 6ish.”

Bilbo made some appropriate noises as she selected a good knife to chop the onions.  She peeled away the dried outer husks of several in order to get to the layers.  There was no thought of using the same knife for both vegetable and fruit, so another long blade was selected. A sudden thought occurred to her.

“Is Fili coming tonight?”  Bilbo asked tentatively, looking over her shoulder at Sigrid.

Sigrid straightened behind her as she began to wash off the fillets. Tension tightened her shoulders. “No, he is at the Ironworks tonight.  He’s still very upset about what happened.”

It was on the tip of Bee’s tongue to ask if Fili was upset over the fight or the fact that Thorin was allowing his cousin to interfere.  She knew little of their arrangement, most of the paperwork for the Ironworks was filed as a subsidiary to Erebor Inc.  Bee felt the same tension creep into her body, not only for what had happened but for how badly Thorin had felt about it.  Bilbo couldn’t be the matchmaker between uncle and nephew. No matter how much she wanted to.

Gandalf returned, lugging the indoor grill.  He placed it on the end of the counter then plugged it into the power strip under the lip.  Sigrid floated to him, exchanging a few words as she took a cloth to wipe down the grill’s surface.  Since the blonde was in possession of the recipe, there was little to do until given direction.   Sorting the chicken stock into clean lines with the pickles and capers, Bee tried to imagine what all these ingredients would taste like together after it cooked for a few hours. Definitely, something new.

Sigrid sidled back, her bright personality lighting up the room. “Gandalf was trying to give me advice about baby names.  Nothing like the stars use, no inanimate names like, Blade or Rider or Female.”

“He's a wonderful old man.” Bilbo laughed. “Seems to get on with Thorin ok.”

Sigrid eyed her with a smile. “One wolf recognizes another.”

Truer words had not been spoken. The tall Sheriff was quick the dashing figure with his friends moving into the seating area off the kitchen. Their conversation wasn’t as loud nor as boisterous, rather the reserved tones of old friends who had seen a few battles together.  Bilbo had no luck trying to figure out what the Twins might have been weeks before then arrived. She couldn’t imagine them in any other attire than black BDUs and tact gear.  The gear reminded her of the missing hellion redhead.

“Tauriel went to Dale today?”  The two women worked well together, Bilbo fetching the jars that Sigrid requested.

Sigrid shrugged, not realizing the opening that the Burglar was creating. For her part, Bee want to feel a little bad for pressing the blonde on subjects when they had just passed a critical mile marker. Bilbo had supplied information that brought down Smaug in small ways, proving her loyalty. In return Tauriel had gotten Frodo out of Smaug’s hands. It was natural for her to wonder if she be required to divvy up more intel every day or just once or twice a week.

“She did.  She is at the Ironworks with Fili. Ohhh.. Have you heard?  Nori and Nileth hooked up!” Sigrid’s eyes went wide as she used one hand to stifle her giggle.

So much for asking about Tauriel, she thought, or any of the real plans. Gossip was something everyone lived for around here. Bilbo could see even Gandalf turned so that he might lean an ear into their conversation.  If the bombshell was at the Ironworks, she must be strategizing with her soon to be brother in law anyway.  While she might not like waiting, she would find out soon enough what was required of her next.

“How do you know Nori and Nileth are a thing?” Bilbo asked, opening a jar of capers to let them drain. The mental tasks helped push her own problems into the background, giving her some peace.

“Fili told me that Nileth was late for work and she never is. Like never! Greenwich sets their clocks by her minus five hours though.”  The blonde drew breath in great gulps to continue. “Ori said he saw her coming out the back of Nori’s cabin when he went back to the Courtyard for his phone charger. _In the same clothes she wore yesterday!_ ”

Bilbo started to make a comment about the urgency of the two hooking up after so little time getting to know each other but really who was she to judge.  It floored her for a minute that no one could accurately predict tomorrow, they could all die.  Nileth and Nori were grabbing their happiness with both hands. At the end of life, when the luck runs dry, all a body can do is look back over the course run with no regrets. The end did justice to the means and the sacrifices; otherwise why not have that second piece of pecan pie?

It made Bilbo want to march into Thorin’s office and jump him right then and there.  Bystanders or not.

“I hope they are happy.” Bilbo said at last. “Did Fili tell you anything about the raid?”

Her feelings were such a muddle, getting stirred up all over again.  After last night, after that kiss.  It wasn’t Sigrid’s burden and really, Bee wasn’t sure how to share that with the young woman.  The blonde had her own problems, not just here at Erebor but also from Bolg.  He wouldn’t have forgotten her, too much single minded insanity for that to happen.

“Only that Tauriel got some weapons and so did Beorn.” Sigrid shrugged as she finished with her onion then flipped the fish to the other side on the grill to cook evenly.

The women continued the work on the stew, speaking of different topics. Gandalf was invited to join once the Luin Twins walked out to check the perimeter, taking up the conversational ball when it lagged. The preparations were very basic once the fish were on the grill.  They chopped the onions, tossing the bits into the pots in equal measures.  The recipe was one of Sigrid’s mother’s, designed to use cheap ingredients but feed a lot of people.  Bilbo had ideas of a Low Country Boil soon if she could find good shrimp.  The recipe could easily be expanded to feed the masses who trickled in and out of Durinson House.

As Gandalf’s stories spun into a second hour, Sigrid’s expression vacillated between boredom and bemusement—but mostly boredom. Tidbits of who’s who in Dale and other places. deGray was seemingly well acquainted with the Lady of Lorien as well as the council in Rivendell on the other side of the mountains. Bilbo knew a few things of her own about those people but kept them to herself. Gandalf broke into a familiar story, something that her father or mother had told her. Bungo had many stories, fantastical and true.  Belladona loved to spin a good tale herself.

The sheriff took a seat at the bar, looking at them both as they chopped.  He spoke of an angel and a devil fell in love and dared to imagine a new way of living—one without massacres and torn throats and bonfires of the fallen, without demons or bastard armies or children ripped from their mothers’ arms to take their turn in the killing and dying.  There was a profound sadness in his voice as he spoke, as if he knew the angel and devil personally.  Bilbo’s hands stopped moving, listening to the words of two lovers who had nothing to hold them together but their love while the whole world tried to pull them apart. 

For a moment, Bilbo began to think that there was a deeper meaning to deGray’s words than just an old tale. It was more than curiosity that made her want to ask if the story was euphemism for something or someone else. Yet, there was heartache on the old man’s face, shadows of forgotten pain in his wrinkles.  He had seen so much, knew so much more.  Bilbo couldn’t imagine the man’s life, only that it had been very full and lived to the utmost.

Tauriel brazed into the room without a single thought, breaking the spell that the sheriff had woven with just his stories. She carried a metal case in one hand as well as a beige canvas bundle under the other arm. Bee could only watch as the five foot nine inch freak of nature waived at Gandalf with a manic adrenaline grin before handing him the metal case.  The smile brought to mind Mam’s saying of ‘have a smile for everyone you meet and also, a plan to kill them’.  Unfortunately, Tauriel probably did. The Luin Twins must have spotted her on their security check for they entered through the same door that looked out to the Courtyard. Bilbo watched the redhead approach, holding her parcel with way too much enthusiasm.  

“Why do I feel like you’re a cat bringing home a dead rabbit like it’s a prize?”  Bilbo asked as she took the bundle.

She pulled the leather ties to release the flap, letting the slick material fall away.  There were appreciative murmurs in the room, the Twins and probably Gandalf yet, she had eyes only for the short sword in her hands.  The metal and leather grip look small like it would fit a child’s hand, or even better, a woman’s.  The sculpted cross guard twinkled in the light.

The redhead rolled her eyes as Sigrid walked inside behind her. “It’s a gift for you. Something I grabbed from Stone Transport last night.  I thought you might like a souvenir, after all it was your intel that got us there.” She cocked her head to get a good look at Bilbo holding the weapon.  “Think of it as a letter opener.”

Sigrid oohh and ahh as Bee turned the sheath over and over, looking at the details. It didn’t appear to be made to fit the blade, yet the casing was so cool. Giving it a tug, she felt a slight hitch as she slid the blade free. The metal was sharp, even Bilbo could see that from her vantage point. A letter opener indeed, Bilbo thought with a huff. Tauriel was speaking with Gandalf who was pulling steel parts from the case and examined each before handing them over to one of the Twins.  The manic grin was still on her face with eyebrows raised to her hairline in excitement.  Bee wasn’t entirely certain that there wasn’t a dead rabbit somewhere on her person.

“My Mam always said knives were better.  Easier to conceal, lighter to run with.” Bilbo sniffed in its direction, unsure of what to do with it.  Knives were easier, yes, much _much_ easier.

Tauriel grabbed a piece of cheese from a tray that Sigrid had set out for munching until the food was ready.  She opened her hand to Bilbo, silently asking for the sword. With great reluctance, the former burglar handed it over, frowning as if she wouldn’t get it back.  The tall woman twisted the blade over her right hand, spinning the weapon in a complicated arc.  The whip and whoosh of its passage sang in the stillness of the room.  Tauriel moved with grace, from memory, dancing through the movements with her eyes closed.  There was a faint smile on her face as her arms extended out to their fullest, parallel the floor.   

Sheathing the sword, the redhead held it out by the covered blade with the pommel towards Bilbo. “Your Mam isn’t here facing Smaug and Azog.  Knives won’t cut it with them. You need distance.”

“I want one.” Sigrid told her with firm determination and a decisive nod of her head.

Tauriel sighed long and hard, wriggling a snort from Gandalf as he lit his pipe while on his cell.  The redhead turned to motion towards Sigrid with her head as the embers caught in the packed tobacco.  The Sheriff gruffed in annoyance as he took his pipe outside to spare Sigrid the secondhand smoke.

Turning back to her friend, Tauriel said. “If it makes you feel any better, I really argued with Fili about you getting one.”

“I bet you did.”  The blond grumbled as she walked to the fridge for a bottle of water.

Tauriel shook her head. “If you have a sword, it raises the threat level.  Fili will be your sword, dear friend. Or axe, I think is his new weapon of choice.”

Bilbo had long since concluded that when something unusual was going on, something that was part of someone else's plan and not her own, she would find out more information by waiting than by asking. She always looked the gift horse in the mouth.  Good southern manners dictated that she not interrogate the redhead but it was hard not too.  There were so many mysteries about Tauriel that Bilbo couldn’t understand, nor could she predict what she would do next.  But then, that meant Smaug couldn’t predict her either.

“I thank you most sincerely for the sword.  I will need some time to get used to the weight.” Bilbo said as she put the sword back in the canvas wrap.

Honestly, she would need a lot of time but there was no point.  There was a sword and it was hers!  Letting her fingers inch down the shrouded handle, Bilbo allowed herself a moment to fantasize of fighting with it.  She would leap and jump like Tauriel had that morning, nimbly thrusting her weapon at imaginary foes. Her reality was much more pointed, Bilbo wasn’t a fighter like Tauriel and could get herself killed.  It was like the wild card had said, having a sword raised your personal threat level.

“I need a favor, though.  That isn’t why I gave you the sword.” Tauriel’s voice her Bilbo back to the land of the living. “How good are you with locks?”

Bilbo nodded her head for a minute.  “Pretty good. I will need micro tools but those are easy to get.”

There are other things Tauriel might have given in hopes of a bribe, not a sword that Bilbo had no idea who to use.  If nothing else, it would look good on her wall in Bagend when they got home.  Maybe in her study.  Memories of the last time she was home made her long to be there now.

“Why did you pull me out of that car?”  A soft simple question to which there are no simple answers.

“I don’t know.” Tauriel replied with a shrug. She acted like that moment had no significance, that it hadn’t helped another human being out of an impossible situation.

“Do you know anything?  Or are you a sword that needs a direction and nothing more.”  The words were snarled, angry at the woman and more than a little bit thoughtless. Definitely heedless of the danger that Tauriel posed.

The conversations in the room stopped on a dime, even before the last symbol stopped bouncing in the acoustics of the room. The redhead’s face didn’t change, there was no expression and no warning.  She just leaned closer than the most people would be comfortable to where Bee was sure she caught a whiff of her gum on her breath.

“I know that I am a seven hour plane ride from the man who makes my world spin. I know I want to wake up tomorrow morning in Paris with him and this is all a bad dream.”  Tauriel was more than controlled and measured. She was colder than Alaska in winter. “But the reality is, I will wake up tomorrow and kill anything that is a threat to those people who have become my family.”

“Am I a threat?”

“You are to Thorin’s piece of mind.” A truly evil smile slithered across her face. “That makes you my new bestie.”

Sigrid huffed. “I thought I was your bestie! You are just too fickle for me anymore.”

Tauriel laughed in a big belly way that jolly old men have. The tension broke in the room with a snap. “Girl please. We have been in a platonic lesbian relationship since you made me cut my hair!”

Sigrid snorted. “It was _so_ long, you were sitting on it!  You were a month away from being a redheaded cousin IT a la Adams family!  I had to do something!”

Bilbo wasn’t sure when they had taken the right turn from reality to something called platonic lesbianism.  If they were lesbians, why were they sleeping with the Dwarrow brothers?  The thoughts of their true sexual orientation might began to congeal into a pained cat sick mess of uncomfortable conclusions she didn’t want.  Shaking her head while the two women still argued the merits of different cheesecakes, Bilbo tucked the weapon under her arm and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to kind of lighten up how dark this is.. I swear I have Bilbo so stressed she will have an ulcer before BOTFA even gets here.. lol.. The readers who have stuck with me from I'm Bound to You might remember the hair cutting before the Devil's Night where Tauriel got some brown extensions lol.. Still one of my favorite scenes!
> 
> Next chapter is Smaug and some Bilbo and Thorin.. fun times!
> 
> Thank you all for reading me still and commenting ! It is what keeps me coming back to my computer


	27. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 20th 7:50 pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings!!!! The first part is Smaug dealing with his losses and not very well.  
> Smaug's dialog is in bold type... Sauron's is in italic.
> 
> The second part is Bilbo and Thorin…things get said.

 

Smaug sat back in his chair, letting his long legs unfold under the metal desk.  It wasn’t his massive walnut hand carved 19th century masterpiece and it wasn’t even a decent replacement.  Mt. Gundabad was not anywhere near adequate for his needs or his level of comfort.  Drake had spent too many years acquiring his treasures, taking them from one location to another only to have them destroyed by a redheaded interfering cunt.

It was a phantom limb sensation, losing his things. Each piece had been important, a symbol beyond what it was of how far Drake had come in his life. This sterile room wasn’t paneled in rich golden wood cuts of battles or war.  The carpets and sculptures that had been place in areas to be aesthetically pleasing were gone, yanked from his life just as surely has he had yanked them from someone else’s.    The first time he had the idea of sitting by the fire with a bottle of whiskey only to realize that his armchairs and fireplace were in a thousand pieces, enraged him all over again.

The Thranduil’s bitch needed to die and soon.  It was why he was reaching out to the Eye.

The installation bore the scorched marks from Tauriel’s attack, yet they were rebuilding.  The holes in their security were identified and filled with razor tipped welcome mats.  The time for half assed measures were over.  War was coming on swift wings, called forth by battle horns blown by his legions of Orcs and the Spider gang.  He would have this world, and do as he liked with it.

There was just the question of dealing with the pests who thought their lives meant something or that they would make a difference with their antics. When the first phone call from Torog Transport had come in, Drake had dispatched two crews to intercept the truck’s last location. He knew that he was too late, the assault would be over by the time the Spiders arrived. Unfortunately, Torog Transport, the rank incompetents, had been full of apologies and explanations. They had called Mt. Gundabad as soon as the truck was shown to have made an unscheduled stop and had been stationary for more than fifteen minutes. There had been three guards with the shipment as protection, top of the line mercenaries or so they claimed.  Yet, the cargo had been taken and the guards were dead.  

This latest outrage had almost made Azog spilt his skull in anger.  The pale defiler had killed two random Spiders and raped a third until the man’s asshole had looked like hamburger.  Drake had the victim killed just to stop the moaning; it was just too loud.  Azog’s aggression hadn’t lessoned, pushing to try and challenge Bolg to a fight now that the man’s face was scabbing over. The squalling between father and son galvanized Smaug into tranking the Serbian bastard to keep from starting a mutiny amongst the Orcs.

Drake steepled his fingers as he waited for the connection to accept his IP. Torog Transport had tried to bill him this morning for the loss of their employees as well as damage to the truck.  Drake had laughed while he had dispatched some Orcs to blow up their local hub in Lanconia.  If he was feeling magnanimous, he might send flowers to their headquarters in Trollshaws, NY.  Then send Azog to rape their women.  Violent sex was the only way to control the maniac some days.

The computer bleeped a prompt, showing that the address was accepted and he was connected. The dialogue window appeared in the lower right hand corner of the thirty inch monitor as a large eye wreathed in flames appeared in the center of the screen.  His first encounter with the mysterious henchman, Sauron, had been anticlimactic.  His lackey, a man named Sarumon White met him to discuss the terms of their partnership.  Sarumon had typed a few notes on his phone and fifteen million euros had appeared in his Isle of Man account.  A good faith incentive, he had called it.  Drake knew it was bribe.

SAURON is online

_This is outside our parameters._

Smaug felt a light shiver at the unassuming words. He had been a soldier always. Before the death of his family, he had always had a penchant for blood and mayhem. Such proclivities had taught him much in the way of life. There was too much power in a faceless man, too many variables. Sauron gave him pause, because he knew not the man behind the words. _If it was a man_. It was why he had sent Yasna to the White bastard in Boulder.  Smaug needed to know who might stab him in the back.

**I require the Dwarrow boy in Paris.**

He wouldn’t pussy around, just stated his demands.  Typing the words gave him a rolling gut because it was against his nature to have to ask for anything.  

_You wish a favor, Smaug Drake?_

The letters scrolled quickly in the small square, black against the white background. Smaug needed this request. He just hated to call it a request or a favor.  Smaug was used to issuing a demand and several subordinates fell over themselves to make him happy.  Asking for anything pissed him off just a little.

 **I do.** He two fingered the words in punching quickness.  **Tauriel Sylvan is disruptive.  I need to have her fiancé taken and brought to me.**

The operatives in Paris that he had contacted for this purpose, wired back his money two hours ago. An email had been sent saying that the target was being housed in Société Gris’ bunker and therefore unreachable.  The company had a sterling reputation as being the leader of personal protection in Europe as well as sending people into recovery situations.  They wouldn’t just hand the little bastard Durinson over; intimidation wasn’t going to work either.

He understood that asking for a favor from the Eye could be very hazardous to their partnership, the balance would be forever tipped in Sauron’s favor. Smaug bit back the bile that rose in his throat as he waited for a response.  What did a favor mean really if there was no empire at his disposal? The insufferable twat was chipping away at his hold upon this region with an unerring determination. Drake would gladly give over the Ironworks and whatever patents that were attached to it as long as he got the Mine and killed Thrandiul’s bitch in the process.

The gems, the gold, enough to line rooms in jeweled mosaics more splendid that ever created in the world of men.  The Russian Amber Room would look like an outhouse in comparison. Flashing diamonds, glaring rubies, and sheened emeralds that would make the stars weep with envy.  It was what Smaug wanted, what he needed.  A place that was designed to showcase his magnificence, so there was never any doubt who was the King under the Mountain. 

A picture of Kili Dwarrow materialized on the large screen.  It had been taken by a traffic cam somewhere in France.  Red arrows pointed to different people in the background, at least six popped up in the black and white photo.  Each person was looking in a different direction in a standard two by two cover formation around the short man.  Smaug looked at their bodies, at the loose clothing.  They were all armed or they should be.

_Difficult but not impossible. I will require something of you, a diversion in Dale._

Smaug leaned forward onto the keyboard, studying the script as line after line pushed the picture into a corner of the screen.  The dialogue box was keeping a track of their conversation yet not expanding any longer to accommodate the continued exchange.

**What kind of diversion?**

_The explosive kind.  No parks, nothing with children.  It would draw unnecessary government attention in the current climate of terrorist’s attacks._

Grimly, Smaug typed out his reply. **I have lost the shipment due this week. The item was taken.**

_Who has it now?_

**Beorn is the most likely.  But that is not confirmed.**

_You should have killed your playmate years ago.  Sentiment will be your death._

Smaug threw back his head and laughed for the first time since hearing about the lost truck. What a joke to think that he possessed any stray affection for Beorn Medved other than the need to skin him. He could have chairs upholstered with the bear’s hide.  His skull would make a nice decoration on the wall.

The item was a devastating loss, not irreplaceable but close.  He had to lay out some of that bride from Sauron to heist it from the English company who had designed. The time and effort alone to acquire the weapon agitated him completely. Smaug cracked his knuckles while he envisioned cutting strips of the mad Russian’s skin on the inside of his thighs. He would tan and cure it properly to make a nice quirt. A cat o’nine tails with Erebor gold studding the tips.  If the bear took his punishment well, Smaug might give him a good pounding up the ass for old time’s sake before he burned Beorn alive.

_How soon might you create the diversion?_

Drake thought for a few minutes on what might be an acceptable target.  Bowman’s shop was likely or his house. There wouldn’t be the mass casualty if it was the mayor’s house.  Maybe just his family. The store was downtime and in a good position to make a statement.  The Laketown pavilion that the Durinsons and Sindarin fuckers built together would do well, and might push the locals into a point of despair.  It was winter and no events would be happening. Carrock was not an option according to the Eye. Plus, the little crossroads town was too locked in thanks to his nemesis.

**3 days.  I will need to pull enough of composite for the job.**

His commanders would need to be called in for an evaluation on likely prospects.  Plenty of time.

_Expect the nephew within two days of the explosion._

**Understood.**

_I will be in touch for repayment of the favor._

Smaug released the connection, closing the windows.  The slate gray background mocked him with its stale humorless colors.  Annoyed still, Smaug slammed his hand into the side of the monitor, knocking it to the ground.  The screen cracked on contact with the floor but it didn’t go too far due to the short cord attaching it the computer tower. The big man resisted the urge stomp on the electronic remains, grinding it into the pale concrete surface. Tantrums would not solve his dilemma.

Anger leaked from every pore, forcing him to lay his head back on the top of the computer chair’s headrest.  Breathing through his nose and out his mouth allowed him to get the more murderous impulses under control. But only just.  Closing his eyes, Drake willed himself to think of all the fun and enjoyable things he would do to Kili once he got his hands on him.  Fuck letting Tauriel bargain for his life.  Smaug would make her pay for her nefarious deeds against him.  He would brand his initials on her cheek and tits then give all of Mount Gundabad a chance at her holes.  _And_ her fiance’s before he killed them.

A little scrawny Orc hobbled into the room, his eyes flickering to the mess on the floor. Black on black sleeveless shirt tucked into black BDUs did nothing to distinguish the man from any other in Smaug’s employ.  Shaved clean, he had no indication of age or hair color, just pale skin that could be any nationality.  His neck rippled with cuts as he shuffled to grab the waste can. Teeth marks littered his arms and the spacing where his neck met his shoulders.  The marks designated him a ‘snaga’ or bottom amongst the Orcs, meaning he wasn’t strong enough to keep others from raping him.  Based upon his slow pace, he had been servicing someone before he walked into Smaug’s presence tonight.

Quickly, quietly, the Snaga began picking up the pieces from the floor, trying to be as small as possible. Normally, Drake would ignore the little worthless shit and go about his night but watching the man and feeling his fear gave him another idea.

“Boy, take down your pants and lean over the desk.”  There was no point in wasting the subservience. A good fucking would clear Smaug’s head at any rate.

The little Orc whimpered as he pushed the trash can aside and reached for the button of his pants. It never occurred the man to resist, just another reason broken Orc was at the bottom. He kept his eyes down, away from the big man in the room. The bottom bitch tucked his shirt up under his pits, drawing his elbows in as he hunched his back. Long red lines of finger depressions cut into the acre of exposed flesh, particularly at the thin meat areas long the rib cage. The light flop of heavy material dropped to the top of his boots along with stained underwear.

The Snaga had been used roughly, and bruised for the efforts. Smaug rose from his chair, unzipping his pants to pull out his cock.  His flesh wasn’t very firm but it would get with the program once he got in the boy’s asshole.

“Hurry up.” Drake growled while the Orc fumbled in his pocket, handing a small bottle to the Dragon before he leaned across the desktop.

Drake looked at the bottle of KY with dispassion but it would keep his foreskin from ripping in the dry anus. He cared little if it was a man or a woman that he took, the world was there for his pleasure.  Looking over the red winking hole, he shrugged and squirted a little of the cold liquid on his cock and pumped the meat for a few strokes to get it ready. The Dragon took a stance over the submissive, completely uncaring if the Snaga was ready. Lining himself up, Drake pressed the head in as the little Orc quivered beneath him. 

The feeling of having the man in his control, taking from him, fed Smaug’s ego.  The withdrawal was so much sweeter because the little Orc tried so desperately not to cry.  He balled up his hands, trying to relax against the invasion. Taking slow strokes, Drake chuckled deeply as he watched the Snaga accept his ravishing. When he came, he would be sure to do it on the Orc’s back so that the milky texture would paint his wounds into a fantastic portrait of debauchery. The mental image gave Smaug the answer for the target of his catastrophic distraction.   

“Do you know the greatest entertainment for a Dragon is, Snaga?” Not waiting for a response, Drake fucked the Orc harder until the desk began to slide across the floor. “A front row seat to watching the world burn.”

88**88

Dis wasn’t quiet as she stomped around the kitchen, banging pots and pans in a loud disjointed noise that gave Bee a headache. Her long black skirt and tunic swished in concert with the clatter.  Thorin’s sister wore a long royal blue scarf that blended into her clothing but the length was just long enough to hang her if it got caught on something. The burglar wasn’t sure what the other woman was trying to accomplish with her venting.  Her ingredient gathering was just as chaotic.  Rosemary, eggs, milk and flour.  It would make a rather odd rue indeed.

The Mine and the Ironworks were both closed today and tomorrow due to the losses. Bombur’s memorial had been held that morning.  All of Erebor had turned out for their fallen comrade.  His body had been burned, there had been no viewing per the widow Lombard’s request. Everyone had gathered at the park in the Courtyard while Thorin had lit a fire in the pit while the others stood at the edges. Bilbo had stood at the fringe, not really apart nor able to offer anything more than condolences.  The widow held the urn, sitting in a chair between Bifur and Bofur.  Their brood sat in a row behind her, surrounded by the Durinsons in loving support.

People stepped forward, telling the best memories of the departed. His love for food, his steadfastness were the most common. Thorin had looked most dashing in his black suit told a story of when the large man was a prospect and his inability to find the right bike.  Bombur Lombard was a good man and good husband, and now he was gone.  His life was over but the memory would live on in the lives of his children and friends. He would be avenged, oh yes.  Bilbo had no doubt. Just like all the rest of the fallen.

Tomorrow, Dis and Thorin with Fili would be taking Thrain and Frerin’s remains to Erebor for burial. If Kili were here, he would be invited too. She hadn’t quite understood why Sigrid and Tauriel were not going along with them. It left everyone unsure of where to be or how to feel due to sudden closure of the Durinsons. Dis had tried to explain but it still sounded like nonsense.

“Want to talk about it?”  Bilbo ventured as she slipped on the stool. 

“Nothing to say.”  Dis gritted as she pulled a medium sized from a cabinet.

“You seem to be ducking Dwalin lately.”  Bilbo tried to hold back the smile. It didn’t work. “I kept noticing this morning you would step away, then he would follow.”

Thorin’s sister was bent over during this observation, so the expression was lost on Bilbo.  However, the groan from the direction of the bottom cabinet was very loud.  Dis was approachable in most things; this might be a bit out of line.  It was definitely nosy.

The middle aged woman popped her head up, holding hot pink plastic bowls. A meal had been catered at the MC’s clubhouse for the families and members, yet Dis tossed two packs of chicken breasts from the freezer into the sink to defrost.  Cooking was obviously an outlet for her.

“Dwalin went behind my back to Thorin and tried to have me sent away where he thought it was ‘safe’.” The woman went so far use air quotes around the word.  It was startling when to see her angry face in the background.

“He cares.” 

Dwalin did care, Bilbo could see that.  In everything he did, in every one instance, the man had either deep affection for Dis or outright love.  The fact that he still chased pussy might be seen as lacking the commitment.  Bee understood the why he did it but that didn’t help the end result. Dwalin was a sensory individual, completely ruled by touch, smell and taste.  He could no more give up an orgasm than air.

“I don’t want his caring.  I want to be left alone.”    

Unable to take the clatter any longer, Bilbo walked out of the room in search of Thorin and their unfinished business. Now might not be the time, but time was fleeting. Durin’s House was large enough that if he wanted to disappear, he could. With the height and thickness of the walls and foundation as well as the overall paranoia of the original builders, secret passages were not outside the realm of possibility. Bee wasn’t as certain of each nook and cranny yet but general areas that the Oakenshield would lazy away had come up empty.

The smooth cut logs stacked up to the nine foot ceilings in the off shoot hallways were their own decoration. The main rooms closer to the front had the modern feel of plaster and drywall, easier to hang the appropriate artwork or embarrassing family photo.  But the backside of the house had a personality all its own.  The rustic atmosphere of flintlock guns and buckle shoes soaked in these passages from their long ago era.  Bilbo fought back the sigh as she ran fingertips over the textured logs as she continued on her hunt.

The deep melody strummed along the hallway.  It was a different sound than she was used to hearing, like a harp and a bass instrument had a baby and it was just finding its voice.  The sound wasn’t discordant, but a sad dirge of a funeral march.  It fit the mood in the house that was saturated with melancholy. The song was a pied piper, tugging her along against her will.  Taking a right into a little used wing, she could see a light from a cracked door at the end of the hall.  The sound cut off abruptly as she walked towards it.

It was a bedroom, large and comfortable.  Bilbo pushed the door open further and took a step inside.  Blues and whites were the theme, no beachy or seaside extras. A photograph of Fili, Dis, Thorin, a name she didn’t know and another that she assumed to be Kili hung over the bed.  The unknown man had his arm around the youngest Dwarrow in a laughing hug.  _This must be Frerin’s room, she thought as she continued her perusal._

The bedspread was summer thin with the same dark azure that matched the wall border at the top.  A closet and small ensuite could be seen across the room.  Bilbo let her attention sweep the room in search for the instrument that called her to this place.  She found the player in the corner, pushing way an Irish harp that was about three feet high.

_Thorin_

The man was slump down on his butt, his legs kicked out before him.  He was still in his suit pants that she had seen earlier sans jacket.  The gray shirt was open at the neck and few buttons to spare. Quickly, he wiped a hand down his face, tugging at the end of beard.  When he finally looked at her, Bilbo almost turned away.  This was private; it wasn’t for her.

“My brother is dead, and its my fault.” Thorin rasped. “He’s gone, tag on the toe dead.”

The tremble in Thorin’s voice echoed in Bee’s head. He was open and honest in his raw pain. He was all bound up in emotions so fresh she ached with it.  Her vitals tightened in response, fisting in her chest until she could hardly breathe.

Bilbo knelt at the floor beside him, not touching but lending what solace she could under the circumstances.  It was harder than she realized but the gap between them was only as far as they themselves allowed.  She had not known Frerin, couldn’t say for sure who was to blame and who could be judged guilt free.  But all were punished with the act of violence, the same death of family.

“We are who we are, be­cause of those we choose to love and be­cause of those who love us.”

He wasn’t going to get up from the floor, rooting himself in the polished wood. Bee kneed up beside him, unsure of what to say or do.  Thorin was hurting, aching from every point.  But this wasn’t the time.  There was too much left to do, too many things needed doing now.  Azog wasn’t the careful sort, as subtle as a battering ram.  The Durinsons and the MC needed their leader strong.

Bilbo flicked some of the long hair out of his face. “You can collapse and die if you like.  Guilt can smother you faster than anything. Part of what makes a good leader is the ability to make the decisions and accept the consequences. Your father and brother made their choices because of their faith and love in you. Hold your head up and keep fighting. Frerin and the others will thank you for it. Because one day, I assure you, you will die anyway. So while you're alive, you might as well live. ” 

Thorin shook his head at her, sighing deep and long as he rubbed his eyes. “You have quite the gift for asskicking.”  

It wasn’t asskicking.  It was a mercy to stop him at this point.  Thorin could keep sinking in his pain and never find the bottom, never let go.  He had to be jolted from that, put it aside until the end.  He would need dig deep for that core of strength she saw day after day.

“No. I just hate seeing a strong man grieve too hard. It’s like seeing Superman trip on his cape.”

His gaze was a dangerous caress.  His blue eyes were heaven in a stare, and saw right through all her masks.  Always so intense, and it was that intensity that drew her closer even as she felt locked into place. _Ensnared_.

“If you focus on the risks, they’ll multiply in your mind and eventually paralyze you.  You want to focus on the task, instead, on doing what needs to be done. The Dead will still be waiting for you avenge them.” 

He acted like he hadn’t heard her, turning way to stare at nothing.  A spasm of frustration and anxiety crumpled his shoulders, neither of which seemed right. What did he have to worry about? She was the one with the target painted on her back.  He finally drew a breath, a deep one that expanded his barrel chest to the fullest.

"You haven't gotten it yet, but you will after all of this. There is no riding off in the sunset on the back of a Harley with me. There is no happiness at the end of a rainbow. I'm too old to be anything else but a hardcore son of bitch that has to have everything his way." Thorin sighed long and hard when he slumped back against the wall. "I’m a selfish asshole."  

It was hard not to snicker when he was so earnest in his approximation.  Bilbo was thinking there was some great reveal coming from the buildup he gave it. Sitting further back on her heels, she primly folded her hands in her lap and bit the inside of her lip.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me something I don't already know." Bilbo let a little of the humor creep into her voice. "You're my kind of asshole, Thorin. It compliments my OCD tendencies." 

Wide blue eyes met hers, his hand reached for her. At this close range, she could see the bumps on his nose that were signs of a rougher days.  His fingers on Bilbo’s face were soft upon her skin while the hands themselves bore the calluses of his long work life.  Those delicious hands that had given her so much pleasure, were gentle.  Bee exhaled, more of a long quiet sigh and closed her eyes. Complex intimacy that made two people one gave a moment, a lapse of time; his lips teased hers. The salt tinge wet dripped on her tongue. The bristly rub of his beard, his hands holding her prisoner flooded her senses with every crisp part of him.

Thorin wove his spell upon her jaw and whispered. “Where were you years ago? Why did it take so long?”

She smiled at him.  It was the same thing she had felt often since coming to New Hampshire. “I’m just glad I’m here now.”

Thorin was giving her everything she wanted, right now in this moment. The long journey she had taken from the Shire was not so long if there was love waiting for her at the end. He hadn’t said the words, a man so tough and cleaved would might never say them. His affections wasn’t pure nor woebegone but all of him, every ounce of himself that Thorin could give was hers for taking.

“If you were mine,” he murmured low under his breath, “I would walk through the fires of hell itself to keep you away from a man like me. I would do that, give you the release and opportunity to run.”

He lowered his lips to hers, then stole another long kiss. His voice had turned tender and aching. Somewhere, she found herself in his lap stratling him.  Bilbo felt the wonderment of his touch spread across her body. And a curse be on her for it, because now she knew him. He’d shown her his mind, and he’d opened up his heart, and now she knew the taste of his tears.

Bee didn’t think he was one of the vicious. She knew jerks, the kind of men who hit, the ones who left, and the guys who didn’t give a damn. They didn’t take the time to warn you off them, not while digging their fingers in your hips to hold you in place. 

“Stop pushing me away already. I’ll always run _to_ you!”  

There was only the pull of his mouth and the soul-deep grunt that rose from his chest when she responded to his kiss. Thorin's mouth was alternately soft and demanding as he tongued and then sucked at her tender lips. They were alike, Bilbo realized: both mistrustful, prone to hide emotions from others. Both with scars they hated to show.  It was a start, a beginning.

His voice breathed into her ear, “Mine.” She felt the word echo through her, felt it sink deep and root inside her in the most hidden crevices of her heart. Her chest expanded on a silent yes. She was his. And he was hers. 

He deepened the kiss as his thumb teased her breast through the layers of clothes. Her hips shifted, pressing closer, and then her knee pressed into him. The heel of her shoe dug into the side of his thigh.  Her plump body pressed up against him. And he kissed her harder, deeper, making her lose herself in the feel of his mouth. Thorin tasted like sugar and bourbon. He was intoxicating.  

 “Thorin! Get out here now!”  Dis bellowed from around a corner. “I am tired of this Dwalin shit and the crap you are starting with Fili.  We are going to talk this out now so that tomorrow we can be a family without killing each other!”

The brash yelling broke them apart, at once, nervous and panting.  It was Thorin who spoke first with a grin easing the strain of his face. “I don’t like being an asshole, but when it comes to certain people, I’ll be the worst asshole I can be. Especially at times like this.”

 

*******************

_An Excerpt from the Diary of Bilbo Baggins_

There are lies we tell others which in some ways are no different than the lies we tell ourselves. It’s knowing what is a lie and what is the truth, keeping the falsehoods in their proper place that is the hardest thing. Before long, what you want is so far out of reach thanks to those same lies, what you want isn’t worth the effort.

I’m a good person. Lie or Truth?

Deep down after that first year with Smaug, I had accepted the fact that I would suffer...to writhe on the inside against a fate I have never chosen.  It never occurred to me that Thorin was always at the end of that long dark tunnel, fighting his own fate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok.. Smaug is just nasty.. I can’t go any further with that. I see him as viewing sex as power, dominance over another whether it is man or woman or in Yasna’s case, a child. Feel free to hate ….I know I do.


	28. Concubines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 21st.. 5:30 pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's POV
> 
> Warnings:  
> Discussions of sex no real violence yet..

Durin’s house was lit up today for what Dis had called the last supper, a gathering of people to toast the life of Thrain and Frerin.  From what Bilbo gleaned in various conversations, Thorin and Dis with a few others would take the bones to an abandoned mine shaft that was called the Silent Street.  Apparently several generations of Durinsons were buried there, vaulted and preserved.  It reminded Bilbo of the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt who wanted to be surrounded by their gold to have it in the next life.  Entombed in Erebor was most likely the same thing.  

Once the others had stuffed themselves, they paired into groups, sitting around for a few minutes reminiscing. Gloin and Balin passed around long necks while Dori followed finger desserts.  No hard liquor was handed and no one asked. Nori and Nileth made themselves useful in helping Dori when he let them, taking plates and empty beer bottles.  Stone and Ori kept up with the trash to make sure that it didn’t pile up or smell.

It was warm and genial though the beginning was rather rough. The first twenty minutes were a little tense, especially with Fili and Thorin at opposite ends from each other.  To Bilbo’s knowledge, neither had been in the company of the other since their dust up a few days prior.  Whatever enmity they bore the other, it was put aside to pay respects to the departed. 

Thorin had left her in Frerin’s room last evening and didn’t return. Nor did he seek her out in the night.  Feeling like an extra person to the sibling conversation, she had found her room after idly strumming the Irish harp.  Once or twice, she had heard a raised voice from the general direction of the kitchen but no gunshots or crashes.  Whatever they had settled between them, Dis and Thorin went about the assembly with Dis still one step ahead of Dwalin.  It finally got to the point where Thorin sent the big man out when it was apparent his tattoo’d head of security would run Dis ragged trying to stay away from him.

Sigrid sat on the floor by Fili’s feet while Tauriel paced the dinette near the door.  Hours dragged by with more stories told than what was said of Bombur.  Frerin was beloved, the laughing brother who liked to live his life a little closer to the edge then his other siblings. Parasailing off Carrock, learning to scuba dive in Long Lake.  Thrain had favored Thorin, yet had indulged Frerin as his spare.  Bee could guess that their lives had been so full until Thrain’s cheese had slid off his cracker.

The conversation was stilted in regards to Dis and Thorin’s father.  He wasn’t one that many could say they knew well.  Balin and Oin jumped in at this point, giving accounts of Thrain’s younger years as they were closer to his age than Thorin and Dis. They surmised that Thror’s personality had straggled his son’s, arresting his development into a tethered mentality.  When Thror had died, Thrain had not been able to come to terms with it, becoming erratic in his behavior and business dealings. 

Bilbo knew the story from there.  Thorin, along with the backing of Dis and Frerin, had seized control of the Mine and the infant Ironworks.  The first three years saw a very rocky relationship between parent and children as Thrain spent more time away from home.  Thorin had this ache upon his conscience despite the fact he had saved Erebor Inc. from financial destruction. The wounds had festered and never healed.  With Thrain gone, there would be no catharsis to help it.

As the sun began to set, Thorin walked amongst them, shaking hands and thanking each for coming.  Dis and Fili did the same. One by one, they broke up, drifting away into the cold afternoon. Gandalf had been absent, though the Twins were out on the perimeter. The idle fun of the day was Kili who was still in Paris, though Fili had called him on the house phone to be a part of this celebration with his family. One person would pass the phone to the other until it ended with Tauriel who stepped out to speak with her fiancé.  When she returned, there were tears in her eyes that she quickly wiped away. 

When Dis, Fili and Thorin pulled on their coats to head to the mine, the other three women tried to gamely ignore the big elephant in the room.  Sigrid had put a kettle on for some tea, making sure to check with the others if they wanted some of the white tea blend that she was trying. Tauriel shrugged as she began inspecting her curved dagger with a squinty gaze as she took a seat on the floor. Bilbo watched her with some trepidation.  An annoyed Tauriel could be a dangerous Tauriel.

Dis was a little more forthcoming when she explained that Bee would be staying at Durinson House for the duration of the funeral while Tauriel and Sigrid would keep her company. They had not expected her to make the trip to the mines; so a few of the MC members would be in the area for protection. When Bilbo had gotten a look at the other women and their sour expressions, she knew that they were unhappy at being left behind. Sigrid was better with Fili, kissing him goodbye before glaring at Thorin who ignored her completely.  In a vain attempt to keep things from exploding, Bee had thanked Thorin’s sister most kindly before settling herself on the couch with a book.

The couches in the sitting area off the kitchen were deep and plushy, with a fine beige fabric covering that was neither too hot nor too cold.  She could imagine sinking into them and sleeping for years, almost like you wrap yourself in the spare material and dream your life away. The creamy room complimented the earthy kitchen just beyond with the chunky granite rock columns between the two rooms. There were tracks at the top of the recessed ceiling for pocket doors to separate them further, Tauriel wanted them open to see as far as she could.

The Man Cave that she had seen at the end of the hall was a complete departure from this elegant room and its kitchen mate. A leather loveseat that was also a double recliner dominated a wall opposite the seventy inch flat panel TV. A trashcan full of beer bottles spoke of Thorin’s attempt at recycling.  A floor to ceiling bookshelf full of dusty high school trophies and movies, plaques of long forgotten awards. Bilbo could smell a compromise in the house’s furnishings, Thorin had been allowed his space while the rest of the rooms were decorated with sophisticated tastes.

This room looked more like a family room, a place to gather after a holiday meal where everyone had overeaten.  A place for memories of Christmas mornings and Halloween costumes. The thick piled carpet underfoot looked softer than the bed she had been using at Mount Gundabad!

“This sucks.” Sigrid plopped down in a thick padded chair with a steaming mug. “We aren’t _wives_ yet..”

“It’s their tradition, family only. The whole lot of them can be stubborn as mules.”  Tauriel huffed a sigh as she pulled another knife to examine its edge.

“I thought you two were engaged to the Dwarrow brothers?” Bilbo asked from behind her book.

Surprisingly, there was a well-stocked alcoves lining the hall to the formal dining room.  Bilbo had begun sorting the books found in them by type. Fiction, history, biographies.  They had probably held statues or art at one point with track lighting overhead to give it some style.  Tonight, Bee had pulled a worn copy of the _Prose Edda_ , a Viking saga about Valkyries and Dwarves.

“Yep. But you have to be a _wife_ to go to the Silent Street.  Fiancés do not count as family yet.” Her lips twisted as she groused and complained. “I don’t think I ever met Frerin. Did you?”

The two women shared a look of forbearance, as Tauriel shook her head.  Thorin wasn’t making life easier on them, though they were standing together behind their men. The Dwarrow boys had found women that were just strong enough to live with Durinson mule stubbornness. Love has a way of making the age difference between the two women seem meaningless, binding the pair in a lasting friendship.

“The Oakenshield is more wound up than normal.  Fili is grinning and bearing it at the moment, but that is going to change when Kili arrives.”  Sigrid told them as she stirred her tea.

“You really need to get that stick out of Thorin’s ass, Bilbo.  He is going to have a coronary at this rate.” Tauriel smiled as she said it. “Not that I care.”

Bilbo felt herself bristle but gave the redhead a level look. “I have no dealings with said stick.  Whatever is up Thorin’s ass is Thorin’s business.”

Tauriel’s smile took a feline curve as Sigrid’s eyes went wide at her expression. “Yes, but you _are_ sleeping together.  Or is he having erectile issues?  It happens to older men, prostate enlargement and so on.”

Sigrid and Bilbo both started sputtering, Sigrid from surprise, Bilbo from indignation. “I have not having sex with Thorin!”

It wasn’t from lack of trying last night.  Rolling around on the floor wasn’t exactly getting his cock where she wanted it most.  She was a bad woman to try and seduce a man when his family had just been killed. Then again, he hadn’t said no. Bee could feel Tauriel trying to figure out if she was lying or not.

“Tauriel!” Sigrid was trying desperately to contain giggles.

“So you aren’t having sex with Thorin now? But you have slept with him!  Devil’s Night, perhaps?”  Tauriel’s grin got impossibly wider as Bilbo began to blush. Wasn’t thirty six a little old for school girl blushing? “You thought no one would recognize you without your Catwoman outfit?”

Sigrid’s almost broke her neck as she jerked around to stare at Bilbo. “You were the Catwoman!? I thought you went off with Dwalin!”

“She did but Thorin tagged along too!” Tauriel teased as Bilbo’s face went redder.

How did she know? Bee thought wildly.  What had she seen?  A vague memory of Sigrid being there as some Disney character came to mind but nothing on Tauriel.  Neither woman had been her target that night.  Her recon had been limited to either attracting Dwalin or Thorin for information; she had just never figured both men might be interested.  At the same time.

One thing Bilbo learned early growing up a girl--people always talk, whatever you do. She could only image the bliss it must be to be male. Peeing standing up, no messy bloody cleanups.  But who was she trying to kid, men gossip worse than women, sometimes even worse.  Men don’t like it when a woman turns them down to sleep with their friend. Maybe being a man wasn’t so great after all, she mused

“Both?” Sigrid began looking at Bilbo and back at Tauriel like she was watching a tennis match.

“It happens, Sigrid.” Tauriel laughed as the younger woman stared her incredulously. “I am not trying to hurt you, Bilbo.  If you want to be Thorin’s mistress that’s between you two.”

“I’m not his mistress.  That would imply sex to which there is none.” Bee decided that sex was going to be on her agenda by later in the week. Going to bed horny was for the birds. “I am a guest; that is all. Dwalin was drunk that night. As far as I can tell he knows he fucked someone, just not the exact who.”

But Thorin knew and he remembered. He had watched the two of them interact since she arrived, never saying a word in either’s presence about that night. Dwalin for his part, was oblivious to all in front of him. Thorin hadn’t brought it up since she had been in Durinson House and Bilbo was inclined to pretend it hadn’t happened. After last night, she was hoping that Dwalin was a non issue.

“Typical Dwalin. Stupid man needs to be neutered.” Tauriel groused as she put away the big curved knife. “So what do we call you at this point, Ms. Baggins, if not Thorin’s mistress?”

What’s in a name, the Bard said?  Why did these two women need to define what was going on with Thorin? What did it matter? Everything was so up in the air, it made her dizzy. Wiggling deeper into the couch, Bilbo waited to see where this conversation would go. The sheer craziness of the two was killing her slowly, yet they were all together until Dis, Fili and Thorin came back from the Mine.  She had agreed to stay, hoping that she might have more time with Thorin.

“Paramour?” Sigrid supplied with a giggle.  Great Yavanna, did she always have to giggle so?

 “Same thing?” Tauriel said with a smile. “Courtesan?”

“That means money is getting exchanged, like a whore. I am _not_ a whore.” Bilbo laid aside her book to study the other two women as they laughed out loud at her comments. “What is in that tea that makes you so giggly?  You shouldn’t drink alcohol in your condition!”

“Quit trying to change the subject.  Ok, mistress doesn’t work, neither does paramour nor courtesan. What about concubine?” Tauriel put her smaller blade on the table as she pulled out her phone.

Another knife?  Bilbo thought wildly.  She knew the wild card was in the habit of keeping some blades on her person but cripes, they were in Durinson house!  Would it kill her to leave the hardware at home for the night?

“Ew… Concubine wouldn’t work, again with the sex thing.” Bilbo had not idea these two could get so rowdy, it was like they had no idea how to zip it!

Sigrid pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen. The redhead was way ahead of her, studiously bent over the device.  Her fingers swiped and punched on the flat screen. Silence descended for a moment as both women clicked and worked the small handheld computers.

“Wait.. Here it is.. _Concubine_ , according to Dictionary.com, states that it’s a woman who cohabits with a man to whom she’s not legally married.” Tauriel told the others with a grin and a flourish of her phone.

Sigrid typed into her screen, apparently to look up the dictionary site. “Does that mean I am Fili’s concubine?”

Honestly, didn’t either woman pay attention in English class?  Not wanting to encourage their debate since neither were asking her input, the topic had shifted much to Bilbo’s delight.  The emphasis was off her for the moment and whether or not she was playing with Thorin’s pickle.

“No, he asked you to marry him, so you title changed.” Tauriel laughed outright. “But I was Kili’s concubine for three weeks!”

“Not fair!” The blond screamed with laughter.

Bilbo put her head in her hands, not sure when this evening went to shit.  The two women began arguing on which variant of hussy best described the other.  Tauriel was of the opinion that Sigrid was ‘jail bait’ due to her lusting after Fili when she was a teenager while Sigrid called Tauriel a filthy tease for making Kili wait four months to spread her legs.  It was the ‘platonic lesbianism’ all over again.

She hadn't realized how much she missed the company of women who laughed, women who spoke their own minds, women who didn't give a shit for anything. Mount Gundabad had taken that from her, wall to wall testosterone that had coated her skin in slime.  Now after so many washings, the world looked new and inviting with hilarity in each corner and every dusty crevice.  

“I am not a tease!  There was one night at Carrock and again on Durin’s Day I thought we would..but Kili was.. _well_..I just wanted to be sure since he…”  Tauriel was taking a turn at being embarrassed, not paying attention to the rest of them. Bilbo considered Sigrid who looked back as they were both puzzled.

“Since he what?  It isn’t like he was your first.”  Sigrid took a gulp of lukewarm tea as Tauriel squirmed on the floor, becoming more and more uncomfortable. “Holy Fuck! Kili was your first!?”

Still staring at the floor, Tauriel mumbled, “A little louder next time, I don’t think they heard you in RIVENDELL!”

Bilbo studied the dithering redhead on the other side of the coffee table.  What little she knew of Thranduil, it wasn’t hard for Bilbo to imagine the kind of convent style living that the Sylvan female had endured.  Some fathers went a little overboard when it came to their daughters.  Thranduil fit that category of psycho very well.

“But that was last summer!” Sigrid was back to sputtering, gesturing with her almost empty coffee mug.

“I know! I was there!” Tauriel flung her hand out in fanfare.

“You were like twenty four!” Sigrid was still in shock, making Bilbo feel that much worse for the embarrassed Tauriel.

Bilbo had to admit that she was a little confused.  Tauriel wasn’t unattractive.  It stood to reason that there would have been offers even with Thranduil breathing down the guy or girl’s neck. It would stand to reason that when Tauriel finally gave that part of herself; it would be very easy to fall _very_ hard for the one she shared her first time. Obviously, she had picked a winner with Kili Dwarrow.

“Yessssssssss. Sigrid!” Tauriel drew out the word, making it sound like a hiss. “I already went over the hows and whys with Kili! And yes! It was just as awkward then too!”

Bilbo wanted to throw something at Sigrid for making the poor girl feel badly.  Sex is about choice, it’s a decision. While not many in this world wait as long as Tauriel had, it was obvious that she was self- conscious about it.

“So you told him after?” Bilbo asked quietly, not sure if the warrior in their mist wanted to share so personal a moment.

“There was blood on the condom.” Tauriel looked like she wanted to carpet to open up and swallow her, so mortified was she.

Sigrid jumped out of her chair to get down on the floor with her friend.  Throwing her arms around Tauriel’s neck, the blond gave her friend a loud smacking kiss on the temple complete with what looked like spit. Both women dissolved into giggles as Tauriel pushed away from Sigrid.

The tall redhead got up to walk into the kitchen. “Ok, Fili’s hussy, your first time! Was Fili everything you thought he would be?”

Now it was Sigrid’s turn to be embarrassed. “Fili wasn’t my first.”

Tauriel hadn’t made it out of the room before she grabbed the column in mock horror. “You cheated on Fili!”

The surprise was real though, Bilbo could tell.  Tauriel was very shocked to hear that Fili wasn’t the first man for Sigrid. 

Sigrid gasped at her, turning a matching red. “I did not!”

“Bilbo, for the last few months, all Sigrid has said was how much she has loveddddd Fili since she was fourteen! Jail bait, FYI.  Now, I find out that there were, how shall I say it… others?”  Tauriel was now grinning with a mischievous glee.

There would be good natured teasing from now on, Bilbo could tell. The information was lovely ammunition for ribbing the pregnant woman for the rest of this conversation.  Tauriel would never divulge Sigrid’s sexual past, any more than Sigrid would tell Tauriel’s.  Their friendship was true in a time where many were not. It mattered little though in the end.  Fili had slept with so many women in his life. He probably didn’t care who came before him in Sigrid’s bed, only that she was with him now.

“No! You silly wench, it wasn’t like that!” Sigrid shouted but said to Bilbo in a much calmer voice. ”It wasn’t like that.”

Bilbo couldn’t help herself. “Ok, so what was it like?”

Like Tauriel, she had assumed. She had heard the stories of ‘Pining Sigrid’. The poor girl looked at Fili like he threw the stars into the night sky and frisbeed the moon as an afterthought. It was curious to know what might have enticed her to stray.

“It was my freshman year at Lothlorien.  He was a guy I met, dated a few times and I let him spend the night with me.” Sigrid’s expression turned sad. “I had been home over the weekend previously and I saw Fili on the street with some _hooker_. He looked right over me.  Like I was a tree or bench or something.  All the way back to Lothlorian that Sunday, I kept asking myself what was I waiting for?  He was never going to notice me, or want me the way I wanted him. Gods, I wanted him so badly.”

The tears in her eyes drew Tauriel back the sitting area, to take the blonde into her arms and hold her close. Bilbo felt like she was intruding on their friendship by being here.  None of them had expected the convo to take this direction or that the pregnant female would get teary. 

Bilbo cleared her throat, as she got up to leave. “Why don’t I make you some more tea?”

“Oh! I’ve made you uncomfortable! I’m sorry!  Come on, let’s make some popcorn.”  Sigrid unwound herself from Tauriel’s embrace to go with Bilbo to the kitchen, tugging on Tauriel’s braid as she went. “Get up, you dirty tease! I still can’t believe you did that to Kili, making him wait.  You should have been jumping him like a trampoline the first week with all that pent up sexual hormones!”

“Oh my god! Let that go!” Tauriel shouted as she took a bag of microwave popcorn off the coffee table. “But Valar if I had known then what I know now…”

The redhead had a dreamy expression on her face as she tossed the bag to Bilbo. The three women converged around the bar stools as the Bilbo put the bag into the microwave and set the timer. Definitely, the youngest Dwarrow had done right by Tauriel and continued to do right if the smile and her penchant for murder didn’t clue you in to the fact. Love can sometimes be easy, but Bilbo knew love is more fun when there are multiple orgasms involved.

 Sigrid snickered. “You howl when you let go. Sounds like a pack of wild dogs on the loose.”

“You’re one to talk, Sigrid!  Ok, Bilbo .. You have heard our first times. What about yours?” Tauriel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as Bilbo but the kettle on the stove.

Feeling sheepish, Bilbo hedged a little. “I’m thirty six, I barely remember what color underwear I wore yesterday.”

“Thorin’s a panty bandit, isn’t he?”  Sigrid deadpanned as Tauriel started violently coughing from breathing in her water instead of drinking. “Its ok.  You can tell us his dark and dirties!”

“Not listening! Not listening!” Tauriel laughed as she covered her ears. “I just can’t…. and I don’t want too!”

“No! Yavanna! It isn’t like that now.” Bilbo turned away as her face began to heat up again.

“But you wish it was.” Sigrid took a seat at the bar with a serious expression, all joking aside. “I see the look on your face when he’s around. All blank, giving nothing away. But here with your guard down, you blush. People don’t blush or get embarrassed about a guy whose pole they rode for a night.”

“I would be embarrassed if I rode Dwalin.”  Tauriel had a disgusted expression on her face as she stared at the countertop.

“You are getting off topic.” Sigrid told her friend as she waded up a paper napkin to throw at her.

“Dwalin isn’t that bad.  Good sized cock but a bit selfish in bed.”  Bilbo supplied to really get them off topic.

“Ewwwww!”  Both girls shouted in synchronized harmony, making Bilbo smile as she leaned against the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several references in this chptr to other things, Devil's night where Bilbo is outed as the catwoman and so forth. I didn't want to get to heavy with this because I have back to back funeral chapters. The next chapter is Tauriel kicking serious butt in Dale...then.. well..
> 
> This was one of the first chapters written years ago and was updated to fit the timeline..Thank you so much for reading !


	29. Dale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 22...10:50 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili's POV then Tauriel's POV
> 
> Warnings.. fighting, killing and mayhem...

 

Fridays were normally Fili’s favorite day.  The Ironworks and the Mine were closed except if there were special orders or they got behind.  Sigrid’s might have a morning class but she would be done by the afternoon. He would run down to Lothlorian to take her dinner and maybe some vehicle sex parked in a dead end street. Since January she took online classes and lived with him full time, he enjoyed the days more because they got to sleep in.  Or they did until Tauriel arrived.  Now, he had to remember to wear clothes when he left the bedroom.

“You’re going to out today?” Fili asked when he noticed Tauriel sitting down on the couch to put on her boots. She was dressed in fighting attire of a dark gray pullover and black fitted pants.

“To Dale this evening.” She looked up from her hunched over position, still lacing up the combat boots. “I told Bard I would come and help clear out some of the Orcs and Spiders. With the funeral and memorial, you know, the one Sigrid and I were not invited too?  I haven’t had the time to make it.”

Fili felt his eyes roll involuntarily.  His woman wasn’t happy, it wasn’t hard to see, but Sigrid didn’t push him in public about it. The fact that the redheaded hurricane was getting vocal, Sigrid’s solidarity might waiver.  He couldn’t fault them, either of them.  Fili had never considered himself so entrenched that he wouldn’t change some of the Durinson traditions given a chance. The old ways of hiding their wealth and keeping the Mine closed to any but family was very outdated. Dis had asked for this exclusion of Sigrid and Tauriel for an awkward peace with Thorin, because there was no marriage at present. A technicality, really. They as a family were not moving into the 21th century as much as he would like. His mother was a traditionalist, yet _she_ had never been asked to tell the one she loved that he wasn’t welcome to the Silent Street.

Trying to change the subject, Fili walked into the kitchen to nuzzle on his fiancé as she toasted some bagels. “You know before you started sleeping with my brother, life was mildly difficult.”  

Tauriel didn’t miss an opportunity as she took to her feet. “Before I started sleeping with you brother, your life was seven kinds of fucked up!..Afterwards it was eight.”

Sigrid burst out laughing, spinning away from him.  The infectious sound always put him in a better mood.  She was so sunny and fun, nothing really ever got her down. The smile was still in place as she handed him some orange juice. It was just another one of the little things that she did that made his life easier.

Completely nonplussed her assessment, Fili had to ask. He walked back into the living room but Tauriel passed him on the way to the Keurig. “How did I graduate to another level, pray tell?” 

She smirked at him over a shoulder. “When you fell in love with the mayor’s daughter and got her preggers...That was a game changer.”

Wasn’t it just? Fili thought.  He loved Sigrid, couldn’t imagine how fortunate he was to have her.  It was time he tried to mend some fences with his soon to be father-in-law.  Sig was planning their wedding for the late Spring and that wasn’t far away.  She would want Bard to walk her down the aisle.

His fiancé plated up some bacon and scrambled eggs with dill, putting it on the bar with a bottle of water.  Sigrid hopped out the room while Fili dug into his food.  Another plate of warm biscuits joined him as Tauriel took two for herself and grabbed the honey from the cabinet.  He noticed that she began mixing a vitamin shake to go along with the biscuits, dumping the powder in the bottle with the spring and water. Fili had thought it odd until Sigrid explained that while Tauriel couldn’t say no to sweets, she wasn’t getting the nutrients needed from them.

“Don’t goats drink that stuff?” Fili poked at her with a grin as she shook the lime green liquid.

Tauriel’s mouth turned down just before she gulped down the concoction. The squelched frown as she gulped was hilarious. If it kept her healthy, he was all for it. Sigrid was a very bland diet to help with her morning sickness; she hadn’t gotten to the baby poop looking drinks yet. Fili tried and failed to stop making too many disgustingly happy noises as he chewed his food. 

“Oh before I forget, I have sat the last few excursions out.  I _am_ going tonight!”  Fili pointed at her with a fork to emphasize his words.  The redhead shrugged as she slathered the sticky goo on the golden topped bread.

Her nonchalance bothered him a little, normally she put up a little bit of a fight. Tauriel pinned him with a smile. “I texted Bofur this morning to see if he wanted to go. He is meeting me in Thror’s parking lot.”

The conversation ended when Sigrid walked back in with her brush, asking Tauriel to braid her hair.  The curly tendrils were just as pretty wisping around her neck but Sigrid preferred it back from her face.  She pulled out the barstool beside Fili, watching him as he ate.  Tauriel gave thick mass a few strokes before parting the hair into sections to begin.

“What’s the deal with Thorin, Fili?  Did you mean what you told him before we raided Smaug’s house?” Tauriel asked as she pulled hair into a complicated style.

He had thought she had forgotten about that, honestly with so much that was already on her shoulders.  But he supposed with this new thing about the funeral, she had remembered. In his downtime, Fili had been researching companies in Minnesota and the west coast.  He wasn’t so brave as Kili, never having the niche market as being a highly creative jewelry designer. The metallurgy art he had created was an outlet when he felt like it, not a driving force.  Every once in a while he would fire off something that made his blood sing either with a blow torch or an arc welder.  Mechanical Engineering was a good degree to have; finding his own niche would provide considerable if he tried to work his education in with his art.

Fili looked at her, rolling the water bottle between his hands. Sigrid watched him quietly, they had this conversation already. “Yes, I meant it.  We’re gone from here when Smaug is gone.  Mom asked that we try to bury Frerin and Grandda in a respectful way, but Thorin never said anything at all. No thank you, or please or I’m sorry. It’s just expected.” He unscrewed the cap to take a long pull from the bottle. “See that’s another thing what peeves me about this shit. Thorin can call up whatever excuse he wants but I asked him in November and again in December to go check on Frerin. He should never have been there alone. I should have gone to check on him. Kili would have.”

The admission tasted bland on his tongue. Worse was the stricken look on Sigrid’s face. Fili took her hand but it changed little.  He should have gone, it was always on his mind to go.  Something always came up or he wanted to stay home that day with Sigrid.  He wasn’t petty enough to dump this at her feet; it wasn’t her fault at all.

“Then there would have been another box. You saw how many Orcs were in that house.” Tauriel breathed out her thoughts. Sigrid made a little cry of despair, not realizing until now how much of a fight they had in the Silvertine. “Whatever Thorin’s motivation, Frerin is still gone thanks to Smaug.  All you can do is mourn him. Don’t make decisions now that you might regret later because of anger.” 

Anger? Fili grimaced.  This was beyond that emotion.  He had walked the Silent Street behind his mother and Thorin with Balin, Oin and Gloin behind him.  All those names of dead relatives were nothing but a memory now, many he had never known.  He did his part for Dis, kept his mouth shut but it felt like it cost him something more precious.  A little bit of self-respect? Did his relatives buried or breathing think less of him because he hadn’t gone to Moria himself?

“I can’t work here anymore, not with Thorin.  The way he’s been, the shit he’s been doing behind all of our backs? Fucking Dain too? We’re finished here.”  Fili shook his head sadly. “I never thought I could say that with any certainty.  Kili was smart, make sure he stays that way.”

Tauriel shrugged like she had any power to motivate his brother.  She didn’t understand what she was to Kili, only getting her side of it.  His brother had walked away from Erebor, basically for her.  If not for Tauriel’ love and Thorin’s pushing, Kili would have stayed here and been miserable the rest of his life.  At least, he was out and could have a happy life.

***888***

Tauriel and Fili marched across the yard from the cabin, heading to Thror building’s parking lot. The afternoon sun was out, warming the temperatures into the high forties. Still nippy by winter standards, it would be chilly tonight on the streets. Poor Fili had made some belching noises once or twice and periodically rubbed his belly.  Hopefully, the probiotic Sigrid had doused his OJ would kick in soon, giving the poor blond a bad case of the trots.  Smothering a grin, she just hoped that Sigrid remembered to wash the cup thoroughly and dump the rest of the orange juice.  Tauriel admitted to herself that she should be feeling guilt over their discussion last night walking back to the Courtyard but she would feel worse if Fili were hurt.

Tonight, she wasn’t sure what they would get especially after the hits she had brought down on the Red Dragon.  The Orcs that she had seen in Dale the other day didn’t give her the warm and fuzzies.  Keeping Fili at home with a vomiting ass was just one less thing to worry about.  They neared the last row of cabins, when Stone stomped out of the house with his father two steps behind.  Their voices carried in the late morning’s breeze. 

Dain still had a bristling quality to his arrogance that could really get under her skin if she were faced with it day to day.  There was not telling how Fili stood the odious little man. Based upon his expression, it wasn’t well if at all. The sneer her soon to be brother wore was usually just for Thorin these days.  Considering the problems Dain laid at their feet, Tauriel wished she had done more damage to him last Halloween.

Stone stopped as far the steps before turning on his father.  The difference in their heights was interesting to see.  Thorin ‘Stonehelm’ was taller by a few inches, a genetic gift from his mother that the Durinson side withheld. Nileth and Nori stepped out of the cottage to the front porch, drawn by the clamor that the two men were stirring.  Tauriel gave a little wave to her cousin.

“Dad, let me ask you something.” Stone stepped down the top step before turning back to his father. “Just because I.. think differently from you, when did that equal me not thinking? No one has the same opinion across the board; the world is made up of new and different.” He took a breath but kept going when it looked like Dain would interject. “You’re allergic strawberries, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop eating them. I hate baseball despite you playing it in high school. You cried when the cat died even though it pissed all over my bedroom floor at every opportunity.”

Tauriel and Fili started to edge away yet they were both clearly wanted to be there for Stone. He had proven himself to be both capable and easy to like.  A good man and a good fighter were hard to find in life.  Fili nudged her a little, pushing a little further away so it wasn’t so obvious that they were listening in the dispute between father and son.

“What’s the godsdamn point!? You going on and on about ancient shit doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have any grandchildren!” Dain roared in his usual fashion, gesturing wildly.

Tauriel looked at Fili who simply shrugged.  Was that was all this was about?  Stone not having kids because he was in a committed relationship with another man?  Tauriel shook her head and sighed.  It was the 21st century in other parts of the world, just not at Erebor.  Many parents would give everything they could if their children had the possibility of finding a loving stable relationship.  Times were changing, the days of the ‘traditional family unit’ was over.  Dain was a fool but then, that wasn’t a new thought.

“What is the point of... different tastes, different... preferences..” Stone had reared back from his father, just as floored by his insensitivity. “When did it become ok to bash me for my choices? When did life grant you the right to try and police who I can love and who I can’t?  I’m over the age of consent and at thirty, I have repaid whatever you could demand for my education.” Stone had made it to the end of the steps with his father standing at the edge. “I won’t give Ori up, not for you. Not for money. I am here with him because I love him.  One day, I hope you can understand.” 

The Stonehelm started to walk away only to see Tauriel and Fili at the fringe, slinging his crossbow over a shoulder.  His face was as defiant with them as it had been with his father.  Tauriel gave him a smile, realizing that ‘Stonehelm’ could be a reference to his very hardheaded nature.  Reaching out, she tucked her arm through his to follow Fili who walked ahead of them.  Unable to resist herself, she turned her head and stuck her tongue out at Dain. His dyspeptic stare didn’t change.

Nileth shook her head at the nonsense before pulling Nori back inside his cabin.  Based upon her lack of makeup and coifed hair, she must have made stayed over at Nori’s after the party broke up last night.  Not that he didn’t have some appeal, Nori had longer hair than her cousin and he was shorter.  It was a relationship she couldn’t figure out unless Nileth had a secret love for the wild side.

“Don’t let him bother you, Stone.”  Fili tossed over his shoulder as they stepped off into the parking lot. “He’ll never get that he’s wrong.”

Stone grumbled. “I don’t care if he gets it. I just want him to leave me and Ori alone.”  He squeezed his hand over Tauriel’s cold ones. “And you, Ms. Lady.  Just because I have a fight with my dad, doesn’t mean you get to bench me tonight.”  Tauriel rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know you are planning a trip somewhere tonight. And honestly, I need I whole lot of gone between me and pops right now.”

“Gods, is there anyone who doesn’t know that I am going to Dale tonight?”

“Nope. You haven’t killed anything in a few days, so you must be getting antsy.”

 

 

Bofur and Gloin met them in the parking lot. The two men spoke in low tones until the trio joined them, opening up with boisterous greetings. Bifur was taking a turn in the Kingdom again, apparently getting on with the Widow Lombard better than her brother in law.  Tauriel could see how much it was bothering the flappy hatted man to be away from the Widow.  It was the first time she had seen him smile since she arrived.

“So it’s Dale tonight?”  Bofur asked as he rocked back and forth.  His heavy pick strapped on his back swung in time with his movement.

Tauriel looked closely at Bofur, but was unable to detect any odor of alcohol.  His eyes were a little bloodshot but the pupils looked responsive rather than blown out. Bofur had been trying to abstain from the booze while at his brother’s house.  Just another reason that he had been a little crabby.

“Yeah. What’s new at Erebor, Glorin?”  Tauriel turned to the big redheaded Durinson to her right. “Any bad news?”

He gave her a gimlet stare and a huff.  Glorin still didn’t like her, but the tension was loosening up some. “Dropped off the wife in Dale. There was an incursion last night on Mountain Road.  A truck with about five Spiders made it as far as the second turn before Dain’s men stopped them.”

“Why am I just hearing this now?” Fili gruffed at his older cousin.

Glorin pursed his lips but looked to Bofur before speaking. “Thorin knew last night.  Take it up with him.” He turned to walk back to Thror, stopping at the doors.  He called back. “Oin is at the clubhouse, patching Dain’s men up.  I’ll call him and let him know that you will go there if anyone gets wounded.”   

Fili motioned for them to one of the Ranger ATVs parked to one side. Tauriel pondered this new information as she took the front seat.  Stone and Bofur sat in the back while Fili slid into the driver’s seat.  If Dain’s riders had stopped Spiders trying to make it up Mountain road last night, why hadn’t Thorin at least called her? Or even Dwalin called her or Fili? It explained why Dain was here, not just to berate his son about his sex life. And why only a small team? Smaug had to know that they could repel small attacks.

“Bofur?” Fili threw the words over his shoulder as he drove to the Ironworks. “How many of Dain’s men were injured or killed?”

Tauriel turned around in her seat to be a part of the conversation.  It was important to have this information now before they left.  Especially to get an idea of the Spiders themselves.

Bofur’s fingers disappeared under the back of his hat, the sides shaking as he scratched his scalp. “None of Dain’s or our people were killed. A few arrow wounds but nothing serious.  They fired back and took out two in the bed. Maybe injuring the one on the passenger side before the truck peeled off back to Dale.” 

The Ranger took a turn a little steep, the force of the sudden steering almost flung Tauriel out of the ATV.  Looked at Fili with frustration, she could see beads of sweat on top of his lip as they bounced into the Ironworks parking lot.  Stone and Bofur grumbled at the blond who almost fell out of the driver’s seat.  Tauriel was just coming around the side when Fili doubled over with a groan then ran full tilt into the building.  

Bofur scratched his fuzzed chin before looking at Tauriel.  “Well isn’t that just odd.”

She didn’t look directly at either man as they both walked into the building.  Knowing she didn’t have the best poker face, Tauriel looked up to the rafters in an effort to keep from answering.  The Ironworks was shut down today, no workers there to have suspicions on her activities.  The giant machines were little more than black wraiths in the low lighted workrooms. The foundry employed over a hundred people, doing many different jobs that helped the profit line.  Tauriel wondered idly as they walked back to the break room if each employee of the Mine and the Ironworks had been vetted lately.

They passed the men’s and women’s bathrooms, hearing the loud groans behind the door.   She pressed forward, wanting to put as much space between her and Fili as possible.  A niggle of guilt wormed its way back into her mind.  Sigrid was right in her argument.  Fili was needed here at Erebor, he was supposed to lead one day if Thorin had no children.  

Taking the keys from her pants pocket, Tauriel unlocked the door to flip on the lights. It looked exactly as she had left it. Knives, swords and quivers of arrows lay out on the table, a smorgasbord of death.  The garbage can was still sitting outside the door where she had left it, further evidence that no one had been inside the breakroom.

Tauriel walked down one side, picking up a thigh holder from the end as well as a web belt.  Zipping up her hoodie, she tucked the length of the web and adjusted the size to fit snuggly around her hips.  The thigh strap was velcro at the outer side unfortunately, giving her a chance to lose the knife she was clipped to the front.  The eight inch tactical knife was Erebor’s, so just for good measure she took two longer blades would hang at her back.  Taking her bow and a quiver of broadheads from the table completed her needs.

There would be no explosives tonight. She wouldn’t risk the people of Dale that way. She wanted to help the townspeople, not kill them. Watching the others, she nodded in agreement when Stone looked at her questioningly with a sword in hand.  There was no need to not go as armed as possible.  Bofur had the same thought, taking a large pike and a smaller blued steel tomahawk.  There were two knives in his boots that she could see. 

“Is Beorn going? Have you called him?” Bofur asked when he noticed her watching.

Tauriel shook her head.  Honestly, she hadn’t thought too.  His behavior had been rather erratic, like he couldn’t make up his mind.  He had hit on her a little bit, coming on to her rather inappropriately because he had feelings for her mother once. That might have been understandable to a degree, yet then dangles Haldir in her face.  She knew right now if she looked at her phone there would be at least a text from the March Sentry. Haldir didn’t seem to understand the word ‘No’ anymore than Smaug did.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly punched up his contact. A gravelly voice answered on the second ring. “Yes, red hairs?”

Tauriel chuckled, his name for her was still funny.  She leaned back against the windows to look around the room.“I am heading into Dale tonight to clear some Orcs.  Would you like to join?”

There was background noise, loud and raucous which meant she had called him while he was at the bar.  Friday nights were probably just as busy for him as it was for any local dive.  A snapping sound echoed in her ear, then silence.

“I cannot go tonight. Unfortunately for me, your knifework is dazzling. Nyet. Spiders or Orcs rode through Carrock last night, threw cocktails at Radagast’s store.” Russian replaced the Bear’s heavily accented English.  An answer in the same language could be heard. “I cannot tonight.”

Thoughtful, Tauriel said. “A truck with a gang of Spiders tried to crash up the mountain last night.”

The low growl he gave wasn’t really an answer but the situation perplexed her just the same.  Stone, who had only heard her side of the call, also sent her a curious look.  Bofur took a seat in the corner as Fili staggered into the room, zipping up his pants.

“Many Spiders in Lothlorian last night.  March Sentries very busy. I suggest you stay home and look to your borders.”

Tauriel watched Fili fumble into a chair but her mind was on the sudden activity of in three different locations last night. “I think I will. Thanks Beorn.”

Ending the call, she started at the blonde whose face was the shady side of milk. Fili curled into himself for a minute before straightening.  Sigrid might have used too much or her fiancé had some bowel issues.  Either way, he wasn’t going to Dale, not now.

“Beorn said Orcs or Spiders threw some Molotov Cocktails at Radagast’s store last night.  Spiders were also in Lothlorian causing problems.” The more she spoke the more the actions reminded her of a multi-pronged attack.  “Fili dear, you look like hammered crap. There is no way I am taking you tonight.”

His hackles started rising in typical male posturing. Fili would be livid if he found out, so there was no way she was opening her mouth. “I can go! A little pepto, some toast, I will be as good as..”

“Sick.” Stone interjected, crossing his arms as he joined the conversation. “You got something nasty in your body.  Go home, drink fluids. Pepto might plug your ass but you will still feel like shit.  Let Sigrid baby you tonight.  I’ll call Nori and see if he wants in. Oh..wait..”

Tauriel laughed at his realization. “Yeah, Nileth was there this morning.  It might be hard to get him to leave.”

Stone snorted but began texting anyway.  Tauriel shoved away from the glass to walk to Fili. He had a sore expression on his face that reminded her a temper tantrum.  She squatted down to his level, noting the sweaty face and pasty skin. 

“Go home. I can’t risk you getting the runs out there or distracted by your guts.” Tauriel started to reach out to him, but stopped. She didn’t want him to think she was placating him. “Put your feet up and drink lots of fluids like Stone said.”

A spasm of pain crossed Fili’s face, heaving himself from his chair.  He ran for the door like the hounds of hell were on his heels.  A loud blurp echoed from the cavernous work area out in the foundry before the door closed. 

Stone looked at Tauriel. “We might want to let the killer fog dissipate before me leave.”

“Agreed.”

**88**

They parked the truck in a parking lot at the end of King’s drive.  As the main street in and out of the town, Tauriel rationalized that Orc activity might end up on this street at some time during the night.  The buildings made the avenue into a funnel for wind and noise.  A powerful breeze rolled over them as they took the curb, heading down the street.

“This feels a little like High Noon or some cheesy western!” Bofur snickered.  “We should be walking down the middle of the street.”

“Go ahead, Bofur.” Tauriel gestured to the centerline with a smile, tucking her bow over her shoulder.   “And when some truck runs your ass over, be prepared to read off the VIN and license number.”

It was early or should be. Looking at her phone, the screen said 7:30 yet this end of Dale had already rolled up its sidewalks. Rows of storefronts were dark save for the few that had security lights inside their rooms.  Some had ‘For Rent’ signs in the front glass, a reminder that the economy was beginning to suffer from the gangs that were plaguing the city. 

It was hard to ignore the stillness of the air. The world held its breath, like the falling sensation before the plunge.  The breeze was even quiet. Tauriel felt it even through the darkness, the absence of sound.  The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.  Something was coming, but for the moment, it watched.  

Oh goodie, she thought, motioning for Bofur and Stone to the alley on their left. It would branch to a side street that wound into the back parking lot of Bowman’s Hunting.  If there were Orcs or Spiders around, they would be in that area. More people were still in that section of town, easier prey than what they might find near the River Running.

The buildings were closer together with only the one lane street dividing them.  Trendy and cute, the stores here were more art inspired; some chic bar, a vintage thift shop and a few others. A few dumpsters were tucked into empty spaces at the end of the alley, still smelling like dead fish or worse.  The cold hadn’t cut off her nose yet to give her a reprieve from the odor.  There were fewer street lights here, more places for ambush. 

A cat yeowed ahead, then shot from one side to the other.  The quick dart of movement had Tauriel reaching for her knives at her back, taking a fighting stance.  Stone postioned himself at her right with Bofur slightly behind at her left.  Metal rang against hollowed metal with dark shadows dancing in the blacking eves.

“Contact righ-.” Stone never finished as a yell rent the air.

The Spiders fell on them from both sides of the street. Tauriel engaged a pair of Spiders, killing one and crippling the other. Stone and Bofur began cutting a path to the street, working side by side, their movements practiced and sure. Orcs sprinted down the street to attack their rear while the Spiders skittled down the front.  Their black inked symbols covered their throats and the back of their hands holding steel blades.  Smarter than expected they quickly circled Bofur and Stone to separate the trio as much as possible.

“Bofur, you've got on the hat. Why not just pull something out of it?” Stone lashed out with his sword trying to cut a path to Tauriel .

“My hat is deep and full of magic. I got knives and rabbits and dwarves in red hats selling vacations. I got fruit flavored condoms and chocolate whipped cream, yeah?” He swung his pike, then danced out of range of the swinging sword. “But no amount of wishing or pulling is going to get us out of this shit hole.”

Stone actually stopped his attack to stare at Bofur in a perplexed manner.  He was two steps from scratching his head, so confused by the convincing bullshit that Bofur was capable of.  Tauriel wanted to throw something at him but narrowly avoided a thick hammer her opponent swung at her midsection.

“Do you use the fruit flavored condoms _with_ the chocolate whipped cream?  I wonder what that tastes like?” 

Blood splashed on Bofur’s face as he hit the artery of an Orc goon.  He snarled as a Spider jumped in the void to bury his blade in the shoulder of his cut. The force of the hit knocked Bofur to his back, the pike ringing on the concrete. Undeterred, he lunged to his feet and kicked the thug in the stomach. The Spider curled into a ball, but the Lombard kept kicking. He showed no sign of hearing the other two sneaking behind him. His face was contorted in rage that seemed to go beyond the fight.  

Stone lifted his crossbow, firing one bolt then another to take out the two punks that tried an ambush.  One was an eyeshot, the other was in the chest.  At such a close range, the bolt that went into the Spider’s eye was buried almost to the fletching.

“Ask your mamma!” Bofur snarled before slamming down the pike end of his weapon through the side of his opponent’s head.

His hat flapping, Bofur stared at the bleeding and battered man for a moment, as if he could not believe he had been responsible. Finally, he managed a curt nod, and when Stone walked from the scene, he followed.  

“About my mam?  Dude, that’s just uncalled for.”

Four more goons ran out of the alley across the street. Bofur braced his hold on the pike to give Stone time to restring his crossbow. Tauriel ran forward, engaging the Orc who separated himself to take a swing at her. Too late, he caught her knives cutting into the tendons of his neck. The Spiders weren’t as much fun as the Orcs. They met halfway in the road, slashing on a run. Tauriel missed with her own strike, busy trying to deflect her opponent’s.

One thug lunged and attacked, not with an efficient fencer’s stab but like a logger hacking at a tree. She leaped backward, then jumped in again while the Spider was trapped by the velocity of his great swing. When he tried to recover, he bumped the foot of the man Bofur had downed earlier. His attention flickered to the ground, and she kicked his sword hand. The blade flew into the topiary to her right. Branches rattled and snow flew.

In one liquid motion, the man vaulted up to grab the low metal scroll of the street light, using his weight to swing forward. He stuck his landing on the bench in an easy crouch, pulling a long knife from his boot. Hopping to the ground, he flashed some black teeth like they were something to be proud of. Too close, she thought with a smile. Tauriel rammed the heel of her hand into his nose. The blow might have hurt, but it did not incapacitate him. He grabbed Tauriel’s wrist to yank her closer as his head snapped back.  That was a _really_ bad mistake.  

“Aren’t you dead yet?” Orc asked, sounding far more annoyed than intrigued by her presence.

Tauriel chose this moment to jump up and wallop the side of the thug’s head with her foot. The swat of hard rubber tore her from his grasp but let her unbalanced as she got to her feet. The Spider snarled and swung his weapon at empty air. She rolled out of the way and grinned at him.  “You’ll have to try harder than this.”

The meathead lunged again, slashing at her face. She ducked the blade and angled into his body. With her knife in hand, she could have finished the fight with a stab to his chest, but she struck with her free hand. She hammered a palm strike into his solar plexus and drove her knee into his groin. The surprise on his face might have been sad if she thought beyond driving her knife into the vulnerable neck. The gurgling hiss of a punctured windpipe didn't detract from how smoothly the blade cut into the skin like it was butter.  This time, he pitched backwards, crumpling into the street to bleed out hot blood on the frozen walk space. 

One more charges into the breach. Dirty with a warped blade, Tauriel almost felt sorry for him.  A bizarre noise pitches from behind her as knife meets sword, their strange music filling the night.  After a moment, Tauriel realized it to be a laugh. Such an awful screeching sound that might ruffle the feathers of the most stalwart. Bofur cut the sound into with his pike rammed into a goon’s diaphragm. There was an awful sucking buzz when he pulled it free of the dead man.

The ice crusted curb did not give much room to maneuver, but she managed to sidestep the downward arc of the nicked sword without leaving the path. She jumped in close behind his swing, careful of the gravelly salt thick on the ground. The man’s attack left him tilted forward, off-balance. She slammed her palm into the side of his jaw. His head snapped to the left, and he grunted in pain.

An arrow sliced into his neck, spraying the gray air red.  Whipping her head to the right in the flightpath, Tauriel saw Stone lowering his crossbow. He gave her a little salute before using the heavy metal cocking stirrup to clock another Spider on his nine o’clock. He immediately set off, following Bofur to push three more out of the side street.

“That one counts as mine!” Tauriel bellowed at him, raising her knife at another Orc who advanced on her position.

The thug flew at her with his blade outstretched, and she dropped beneath him, feeling the wind on her face as the sharp steel cut the air within inches. Spinning up to her knees, Tauriel slipped her blade up to shave an inch off the Orc’s calf muscle. The screams rent the night, a stunning counterpoint the metal clanging.  Her feet slipped a little, her boots failing to grab in the slush.  The Orc slammed a fist into her side, too close to use his sword.  He grabbed her forward to yank her further off balance.  

To distract her opponent, Tauriel kicked him in the shin. She clamped her free hand on top of his, pried his grip loose, and forced his arm into a twist that left his wrist upside down and her elbow on top of his locked arm. She leaned on him, forcing his arm against the joint. The thug folded in half, and something snapped. He yelled and pulled away from her to curl out on his side.

Stumbling, she hurried along the narrow path that wound through the buildings of Dale to follow the echoes of battle. In an alley next to the Spic & Span Laundromat, Bofur struggled with his opponent. They writhed, each groping for a devastating hold or strike. She jumped out of the way as the two men thrashed and rolled through the mouth into King’s Drive right into the ice laden puddles. They bounced off a wall, and the Spider came out with the advantage. He straddled Bofur, hands wrapped around his throat.

Tauriel lunged over a bench to come up behind them, and slapped the flat of her sword over the man’s ears with all her strength. He yelled, grabbed his head, and stumbled away. Before she could follow, bare-armed, bald man stepped in front of her. Scars crisscrossed his honey-skinned face and head like brambles in a blackberry patch. Though he lacked the height—his onyx eyes were level with hers—the powerful muscles defined by his tight black shirt made him intimidating. His slitted eyes locked onto her accusingly, as if he could guess her thoughts.

“I don’t have all night.” Tauriel told him, taking a step back with her right foot to lead with her left. She pulled the knife from her thigh sheath, setting for an overhand grip.

The wide grin on his face was like a gaping maw of a lion, a stretched spacing that would have intimated anyone else.  He unslung the mace from his shoulder, stepping into the street light overhead to swing at her.  He put everything behind it, golf swinging it for her midsection or her head. There was no need to block that kind of power, jumping back a foot then rolling left.  Too late, he realized with his two handed swing he had left his entire right side open as the momentum committed his body into the arc.

Quickly, she ducked in to stab him under the armpit, then punched her second blade into the lower belly. The Orc’s body bowed from the pain, screaming loudly in surprise.  Tauriel left the knife there, kicking the handle so that it drove deeper into his body.  He slumped against the metal trashcan, shock turning his face to a mellow tan.  The Spider web ink on his neck stood out starkly against his sweating skin. Not for the first time, she wondered how these gangs, the Orcs and Spiders, found recruits to keep throwing themselves into death’s jaws.

Flashing lights blared down the street as a police SUV came around the side at high speed. The light bar flickered blue in strobe bursts that almost blinded Tauriel for a moment.  The driver door popped open, revealing Gandalf deGray with one of the Luin Twins joining him from the other side.  Dressed in black technical clothing, the gray bearded Sheriff pulled out his staff that he carried plus the new sword that Tauriel had gifted him.  He touched the hilt to his forehead in greeting.

“Heard that there was a disturbance to be had at this end of town.” He nodded to Bofur who was lighting his pipe with bloody fingers.

“Early Spring cleaning.”  Tauriel supplied with a smile.

Looking around at the bodies littered on the sidewalk, she counted upwards of eleven dead which meant at least that many could have been on the run back to Smaug.  The blood congealed in puddles around the corpses. It was a gruesome display of murder, though mostly in self-defense.

deGray scratched his chin, looking closely at the remains. “Go on back to Erebor. We will dispose of the bodies.”

“Are you sure? We did this…”  Stone began, trying to be helpful.

Erebor didn’t have the crematorium that Mirkwood did, but there was one at Mandos Funeral Home.  There must be a lot of after hours business going on that never showed up on the official state forms.  Tauriel couldn’t say that she was on a first name basis with Mr. Namo, never needing his services personally.

“No, you all have done enough tonight.”  Gandalf pulled out his phone and started texting quickly.

She hadn’t thought about it in the head of battle, trying to keep her head in the fight. Bofur had the same interested look as she, puffing energetically on his pipe stem. If there were so many operating in Dale, the place would be over run in no time.

“Is it like this every night?  This many Orcs and Spiders on the street?” Tauriel asked after a moment.

“No,” deGray said grimly. “Things are escalating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck... I so wanted this out last week but had no internet to upload the file.. Bad Kells..bad Kells... but on the upside.. There might be an update by the weekend... the next chapter needs polishing ... a hard write ....


	30. Bowman's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 22 3:00 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's POV... general fun and then the nasty surprise
> 
> The second part is Saruman's POV in Boulder  
> more general nastiness

 

“If you can’t get it. There’s no pressure.”

“Shut up.”

Bilbo refused to look at Tauriel as she took two paperclips and twined them into the lock at the hinge.  Granted, she knew about these kinds of locking mechanisms.  She had taken the down time working for Smaug to improve her breaking and entering skillset. If for no other reason than to have a value to the Red Dragon. The foam kneeboard shifted under her as she wiggled her body rather than her fingers on the paper clips. She didn’t want to get stiff from tensing her body in one spot too long. Slowly, Bilbo began to twist the thin metal wires counterclockwise, drilling into the hard plastic. 

Nori and Nileth were in a van outside in the parking lot.  Tauriel hadn’t wanted them to be caught by a blast if the case itself had a trap attached.  Bilbo wanted to tell her that her precautions were overkill.  Sweet that she cared for them but still overkill. Whatever was in the case held a lot of value.  The money that was spent on a container this size meant someone would definitely whatever was in it. 

Bilbo didn’t say that to Tauriel. She already knew who would want it back, where it had been going before the redhead and the mad Russian stole it.  A slight pop vibrated, making the short woman grin.  The primary lock was open, leaving her the false dummy lock in the front that was actually the second step in the process. Picking up her knee board, Bilbo groaned to her feet to walk to the other side.  The case was too heavy to swivel around on the concrete by herself. The board protected her knees as she worked, however it was also a barrier from the freezing floor. Dropping the foam and sitting down again, she took a mini screwdriver that was good for micro work and jammed it into the built in metal.

Tauriel hissed, bending closer. “Are you sure you want to do that? I mean..”

“It’s fine.  This lock,” Bilbo fingered the steel plates in the center. “is equal to the same kind of lock you have for your luggage. However,” She explained slowly, pointing the pinhole that still held the paperclips. “That the pressure lock. It releases the springs around the corners that clamp the lid shut.”

Bilbo removed the screwdriver then flipped the latches on the ends and raised the lid.  Tauriel and Bard began shouting for her to stop, almost slamming down the top down on her fingers. A fraction of a second later, she wouldn’t have had to worry about manicures ever again.

“Ahhhh..!!!”  Bilbo cradled her fingers together, tucking them under her chin away from the pair. “What the hell!!!”

Tauriel leaned over the case, _her_ long elegant fingers splayed wide for balance. Bee had an irrational urge to use Sting to cut her nails down to the quick. Longingly, she gazed at the sword wrapped up on the table in the corner.  The wild card who was currently breathing mint in her face had insisted she bring it.  ‘Just in case.’  The redhead hussy had the nerve to laugh when Bee told her about the sword’s name, because of the little cuts all over her palms from trying to clean it.

“What the hell is right!  We have no idea if there’s poisonous gas, a bomb or something equally nasty.”  Bilbo realized that there was a tiny bit of gold Tauriel’s eyes, which meant she was entirely too close.

Bard eased back but was still wary. He wasn’t the type for hysterics, not nervous or fidgety. His attention flickered from Bilbo to the case then to Tauriel and back again.  The circuit was continuous but at one point she thought he might have looked at the Wild Card’s rump.  The redhead’s hands and knees position gave him opportunity.

“If there was a bomb, it would have gone off when I popped the first lock. There.” She pointed to the hinge. “There are no vents for poisonous gas or a biological agent. This case is designed to take an impact and safeguard the interior housing.  Not ruin it for the buyer.”

She pushed at Tauriel’s forearms gently to get her to move.  Her anxiety was fresh and justified.  Bilbo lifted the lid once more to get a good look at the inner locks. It was why the case was so heavy. A secondary lid hid the prize that everyone wanted to see.  Bee had hoped to see this part; it meant that she was correct that there were no biohazards in the inner box.  Taking her picks out, she went to work on the three latches on top.

“I heard from deGray that you, Bofur and Stone cleaned out Dale last night.” Bard said quietly, arms crossed. “Thank you.”

Bilbo kept her head down while she worked.  There was no need to join in or offer commentary. Something had been niggling in her mind though since she had heard of Smaug’s men in Dale, some forgotten piece of information.  Bee massaged the tumbler, trying to hook it right then flip it.  With her hands moving in a rhythm, it was easy to let the background go and be free for a few minutes.  Driving into Dale today, she had wanted to roll down the window so that she could stick her head outside like a dog’s.  The idea of the breeze flying through her hair was just as refreshing as feeling it. 

Ten days she had been shut up in Durinson House, not as a prisoner but a protected guest.  Well, one who lusted after her host with a single minded determination. Frodo was safe in Mirkwood; she was safe in Erebor.  So why did it feel like the other shoe was about to drop?

“It’s odd.” Tauriel broke into her thoughts when the pick slipped again. “There were attempts at Erebor, Carrock and I think Lothlorien the night before. Gandalf said that they are not so numerous, mostly in smaller groups.  Still mostly Spiders.”

The itch was back at the base of her skull, something Bee was forgetting.  Bard came to stand at her left side, scratching the two day old beard that darkened his jaw.  He wasn’t a handsome man, not like Thorin. He couldn’t pull off the patchy scruff the way the Oakenshield could.   

Tauriel paid attention to Bard as she got to her feet. “If you want to thank me, talk to your daughter.  This has gone on long enough.”

“Mind your own business.” He grumbled, walking to Bee’s other side to get a better look.

“Get your head out of your ass and I will.” She retorted.

The tension climbed a little as the two locked horns in silent visual combat. Bilbo cleared her throat a few times until Bard finally looked away.  She really didn’t want to get in the middle, and there wasn’t anything she could say that someone else hadn’t already. Bard will get his head out of ass one day.  Just hopefully before the baby came.

“Where were they exactly in Dale?” Bilbo had heard bits and pieces of the fight but nothing other than generalities.

The back workroom was chilly, with no heat source other than the cold space heater in the corner. Bard obviously relied on body heat in the store to keep it comfortable.  The jeans she wore weren’t insulated and just the littlest bit tight with one of Thorin’s sweatshirts bagged over it.  It was a real ‘squee’ moment to know she was wearing something of his.  If she sniffed that collar, she could imagine it smelled of exhaust fumes and tobacco.

“I was meaning to ask you. Since you used to worked for Smaug and all..” Bard started forward, hovering yet not in her light source. “Why is he coming to Dale if it’s Erebor he wants?”

Bilbo shrugged as she finished opening one lock then moved to the second. “He wants to make sure Erebor doesn’t get any help.  Dale is uniquely positioned at the base of the Lonely Mountain to be of aid should Erebor need it.”

There were other reasons, like Azog’s preferences for violence and sex. Bee often wondered at what point was Smaug going to let Azog off the chain and really do damage.  The pale bastard was the threat over her head, Frodo’s and every sane individual.  With Dale as his playground, Bilbo shuttered to think of pain the defiler could inflict.

Bowman didn’t like her answer. He began pacing laps around her as she worked.  It was more frustrating than annoying, his extra energy might be better served out helping his customers. However, with no idea what was in the case, Bee couldn’t fault him much. Tauriel stood before her with the black case between them.  Really, there was no pressure here.

Rumors had made the rounds in the dinners at Durinson house that Bard had come through in a big way for the Durin’s folk with knives and other weapons. The Mayor of Dale might have an issue with Fili and Sigrid but he was still a good man. The Federal Government didn’t always take the character into account. They were always looking for a reason to shut down hunting stores, whether or not they sold guns. 

The Ironworks was online too, pumping out as much reinforced steel as possible to cover any weak areas in their defenses. Some nights, Gandalf, Tauriel and Dwalin talked strategy over and over, arguing about the best alternative.  No one had bothered to ask Bilbo her opinion, so she wisely kept it to herself.  But it seemed to her that hunkering down behind razor wire and all the rest was just a way to die slow.

When the last lock folded away, Bilbo pushed the metal sheeted lid on top of the hard plastic outer side.  Dark gray foam, thickly padded hugged the object it protected. Bard grumbled for a moment only.  He leaned down with his head almost touching Tauriel’s, his fingers touching a design on the stock. His exhale sounded rough, tire. Abruptly, he walked back to the table to work on the crossbow, the clatter of tools taking up the quiet of the room. He kept shooting looks at the two women every few seconds, not sure what they were going to do. 

It was a gun, big and oddly shaped.  There was glass inlay down the barrel with metal plates in teeth like pattern on the outside.  The thick dark gray rectangle lay in front of the trigger but she wasn’t sure it was for bullets.  In fact, the only thing on the gun that looked familiar was the trigger section. 

 

Bee got up and walked to the wall where Sting lay as Tauriel slid into her spot in front of the container.  Once or twice, she reached out to touch it, only to pull back at the last second.  It made Bilbo concerned since her own fingers had brushed it in the case.  It was obviously lethal, though what kind of lethal was as yet to be determined.

“Bard.”  Tauriel bent over an opened case.  Her eyes were wide like a child staring at a pile of candy.

“Yeah.”

Bard took a screwdriver, rotating it into a section to free the tension.   Bilbo wished she understood the mechanics. He removed more parts that could be broken, though Bee couldn’t say what they were.  He was skilled, she gave him that, working efficiently removing and sliding in others quickly.

“That’s a..that’s a Black Arrow.”  The redhead looked positively frighteningly bouncy, like an excited vampire bunny. At least, she hadn’t tried to touch the Black thingy in the case, whatever it was.

“Yeah.” Bard interrupted her with his attention still on the table. “You do know that it’s going to Erebor, right?  That’s a target on my back.”

Bilbo looked back at the case.  Bard was afraid, that was why he didn’t still around it or try to touch it.  The fact that Tauriel was so giddy was an indication that the black thingy should be treated like Ebola. Bee craned her neck a little to see it again.  Tauriel lifted a section of foam to reveal two metal darts in gleaming black matte that were about eight or nine inches long. Wickedly pointed, could those really be the bullets?

“Yeah, but… that’s a man portable Rail..” Tauriel stumbled over her words as she stared at the open case with a kind of awe generally reserved for the Queen or lovely diamonds.

“It’s a man-portable Rail Gun made by Black Arrow Technologies which is a subsidiary of Westron Industries located in Ithilien, England.”  Bard didn’t bother to look at her despite her snarl in his direction. “Spit it out, sweet cheeks we don’t have all day.” 

The wild diabolical mania which had gripped the redhead was gone in a flash.  The giddy joy blew itself out as if it had never been.  There are people in the world who can bend the will of the most stubborn with only a look, Mam used to say. Now, looking at Tauriel, Bilbo wondered if truer words had ever been spoken.

Tauriel never had to raise her voice. She never had to scowl. She didn’t even need words. What scared Bilbo at this moment was much simpler and sweeter than that—a smile. A razor tipped smile that was beautiful in its cruelty. Tauriel smiled—not a real one, of course, but a slow, crocodile reveal of teeth and a practiced hysterical shine.

She gave Bard a nightmare’s grin, pairing it with a soft lilting voice. “Whether my cheeks are sweet or not is none of your business, Bowman!”

“So only Kili is allowed to know how sweet you are?” He teased without turning, feeling confident that he was safe with the Wild Card.

Bilbo felt a bit uncomfortable by their banter, so was Tauriel if the scary look on her face was any indication.  She rose slowly from the floor, graceful and quick.  Bee let her grip tighten on the hilt like it was a security blanket.  Tauriel looked like she could cut a chunk out of Bard for picking on her.

“Damn straight, old man.”  Tauriel snatched an arrow shaft, laying nearby to twirl through her fingers as she flounced out of the room. If her nose was any higher in the air, it would have hit the door casing.

Tauriel completely missed the look that Bard passed her or the words said under his breath to the effect of ‘I would love to show you how old this man is’ but Bilbo heard and pressed her lips together to hide the smile. With Tauriel gone, the tension fell to pieces.  Bard didn’t make her fell off kilter, not the way others might.  There were precious few mysteries that she didn’t know about the mayor.

“What?”  Bard snapped at the look on Bilbo’s face.

“You do realize that you have a daughter only four or so years younger than Tauriel, right?”  Bilbo ran a cloth over Sting as her smile grew.

“Age is only a number.” Bard grumbled as he chose some parts from a nearby shelf.

“True. But that number is the line between pedophile and dirty old men.” Bilbo was doing all she could not to snicker at the peeved look on the man’s face.

“Shouldn’t you check in with your jailer?”  He snarked, not looking in her direction.

Putting Sting in its sheath, Bilbo whistled as she walked out the door, the conversation forgotten as the door closed. It was odd owning a sword, even a short one.  Mam had taught her a few things but with blunted knives and hand to hand fighting.  Never swordplay.  She had always said it was too harsh a business and if a lady resorted to violence she had already lost the fight.  Mam had never met Tauriel Silvan who Bilbo would stack up as equal to any man.

Tauriel was a sweet girl once you got passed the armor, but she was completely clueless on the looks that she garnered from the male side of their species, like Bard and few others Bilbo could name.  Or quite possibly that is why the men looked so hard at her?  Because she had no idea how gorgeous she was?  Bilbo had the feeling that Tauriel would want to be admired for her skills that she had acquired not for a flukish thing like genetics. But one thing was true to the exclusion of all else, Tauriel loved Kili Dwarrow madly, rashly or crazily.  She saw no one but him, nor cared too.

Bilbo continued walking to the front of the store looking for the others.  Gandalf stood outside with his pipe puffing away as he watched the street. Tauriel was on the other side, walking into Mrs. Gloin’s coffee shop.

“Seems like everyone has their knickers in a twist today. Well, those of us who are wearing knickers.” Gandalf gave Bee a pointed look as he put his pipe back in his mouth.

“I have on my grannie panties, it you must know.” The shorter woman told the sheriff as she looked up at him.

“Thorin tear the others up?” The sheriff jabbed with a snicker as he watched the street.

“No! Why are people so interested in my panties?! We aren’t.. no, well not since…” Bee felt confused and agitated that a man who had known her since diapers picked on her about her sex life. Why did everyone just assume that her and Thorin were burning up the sheets every night?

“Not since Halloween, you mean.”  He finished her sentence with a twinkle in his eye. “Yes, it was quite the talk until Kili and Tauriel’s relationship became known.  Thorin had never ‘shacked up’ with a woman for days.  It was usually just a rub and tug and out they went.”

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation.” Bilbo said primly, crossing her arms.  Not comfortable about a massive understatement. “Tauriel told you, didn’t she?”

“You were quite comfortable between Thorin and Dwalin.  You can do the act but not talk about it?”  Gandalf gruffed at her beneath his bushy face, not acknowledging how he knew. “You’ve changed, you’re different now.”

“Thank Smaug. Most people have a monkey on their back, I had a red dragon.” Bilbo turned to leave but Gandalf put a hand on her to pull her back.

“That wasn’t what I meant. I am trying to help you, and him.  Thorin has feelings but no idea what to do with them and I suspect you do too.” Gandalf looked deep into her eyes as she fought back the tears. “Would you have left that morning last fall if there was no Smaug?”

“No!” Bilbo shook her head, the curls turned golden in the weak sunlight.

“Death comes for us all in the end. How we live and the memories we make are what we carry with us and help us to smile in the face of that death.” Gandalf rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “The loves of my life are out of my reach. I envy you this brush of new love.”

Bilbo knew that it Gandalf was right.  She wanted Thorin, wanted to see his face in the mornings and snuggle with him in the evenings while Frodo watched TV on the floor.  Bilbo wanted that happily ever after, damnit! The same ones that were promised in every fable Belladonna had read to her as a child.  So what if Prince Charming rode a Harley instead of a white horse with the long flowing mane!

As if he had sensed her thoughts, Gandalf said. “Do you know how he got the name ‘Oakenshield’? hmmm”

Bilbo shook her head in the negative.  There had been some references around the Orcs but Bilbo had never been sure of what to believe.  The monstrous soldiers would gripe and quip about that the Durinsons or the people at Mirkwood but in the end they had stayed as far away as possible until they went somewhere in force.  Azog nor Bolg discussed Thorin at any length, only sneered very quietly if Smaug would jokingly say his name.

“A long time ago, he and few others got caught in the Misty Mountains by a gang of Orcs who had just moved into the area.  They fought hammers, fists and knives for a long afternoon. Frerin was at Thorin’s back but he stepped badly and stumbled, losing his knife and hatchet in the process.  Thorin tossed Frerin his short sword but was cut when he faced the gang’s leader, making Thorin drop his axe. His opponent broke Thorin’s nose before knocking him to the ground. As the leader went to stab in the gut, Thorin grabbed an oak branch, using it like a club.”

“Or a shield?”  Bilbo supplied with a smile.

“It does have a better ring to it than oakenclub.” Gandalf put an arm about her shoulders, leading her towards a van that had pulled into the parking lot. “At any rate, Thorin rallied his men and drove the Orcs back.  Azog never forgot that beating.” 

Azog.  No wonder he groused so much about Thorin, talking about dismemberment and all manner of nasty. 

Bilbo looked at the Sheriff now, at the knowledge on his face of all that he had seen here.  “We know now, that battle must have been near where Smaug was building his hidahome.”

“Yes.  They were trying to draw Thorin away from discovering their activities.  Frerin had the bad luck to get caught in that area.” He sighed deeply that ended a cough.  The smoke hacked from his lungs static clouds.

Gandalf for the first time Bilbo could remember was showing his age.  The deep creases in his face looking like grooves now, exhaustion making him look ancient. He had been a young man when he had chased intrigues with her Mam, years before her birth.  Time is the great leveler, and it refused to be cheated. If they lost Gandalf…

“What will happen if Erebor is overrun?  Where will they go?” It was a question she had been dying to ask but never finding the right person.

“Nowhere.  If Erebor is overrun, it’s because every Durinson is dead.”  Gandalf lead her to the van. “They’ll die for that mountain, Bilbo. Over two hundred years, the stubborn bastards won’t let it go. They didn’t to the British and they won’t to Smaug. I want you to give Thorin a reason to live in spite of the worst possible outcome!”

Shutting the door once she was inside, Bilbo looked at Nori in the front seat with something akin to nerves.  All of them?  Would they all stand for Thorin and his family and die shoulder to shoulder with them too?  It was too much, the whole thing. It was bigger than Bilbo could comprehend, but it was in the end a fight for their very lives.  They were defending their right to live in peace.  Seeing the expression on Nori’s face, Bee knew without being told that they would all die on their feet than live on their knees before the Red Dragon.

Nori started the van, shifting it into gear. They eased around to the back of the store.  The cat out of the bag, there was no reason not to take the gun back to Erebor.  Bilbo didn’t know anything about rail guns or what they did or what they were.  Considering the frank excitement on Tauriel’s face, you would have thought it was Christmas, a birthday, Valentine’s and maybe another Christmas rolled into one. 

Nileth opened the passenger door and crawled inside.  She didn’t say anything, just sipping her coffee. It was peaceful between the two in the front, a quiet quality that Bilbo equaled to her parents.  It was a new love too, Bee surmised when she noticed Nori’s fingers shake a little as he hooked them into Nileth’s. She didn’t fight the smile as she turned back van’s window.  The parking lot was only half full, though the cars on the street blocked the traffic. 

“How long does it take to get coffee?” Bee sighed. She knew they still had to load up the case and drive the thirty minutes back to Erebor.

“There was a line to the..”

Whatever Nileth was saying was drowned down completely by the sudden blast to their right.  The earsplitting crunch and BOOM shockwaved dust and debris in a fume of spiraling fire and black smoke.  The windows in the van splintered as the waves of rocks plummeted the side. Bilbo covered her head, ducking into the floorboard.  There were screams, loud and rolling pain outside but fear closed her throat until she could barely draw oxygen.  The taste of burnt things clawed at the back of her mouth until coughing wasn’t enough.

Looking out the broken window, Bee could see the inferno that was The Grind coffee shop.  Nori and Nileth were faster, running across the parking look as red flames with hints of blue spiraled to the sky.  People ran down the street, coming from cars and buldings.

 _Oh no_ , Bee thought, _Tauriel_ ….

*******************

Orthanc… Boulder, Colorado

 

_S.A.U.R.O.N:  Smaug is making a critical error._

Sarumon could feel a headache trying to wind its way up his skull as he stared at the monitor. The blinking conversation window took the same beat as his pounding in his head.  This whole expedition in New Hampshire was becoming surreal.  The resources that Smaug had amassed on his own was staggering but the continued drain on MORDOR was becoming noticeable due to their lack of funding in emerging areas in the Middle East and Western Europe.

SARUMAN:  **In what capacity?**

If he was screwing up, it had to be fixed now before government agencies took notice. So far the smoke screen over the individual computer banks had not registered the unusual activity in New England with the Palantiri network bolstering S.A.U.R.O.N’s intel gathering capacity. Saurman wanted it to remain that way.

_S.A.U.R.O.N:  He isn’t utilizing Bolg to the fullest effect. Azog is hampering his son’s potential.  Azog needs to be neutralized._

Azog should have been killed off years before but he was Smaug’s pet crazy so, Saruman left it alone as he typed back a response.

SARUMAN **:  I do not believe that Smaug will terminate Azog, their history is too long and varied.**

Azog had gifted his only acknowledged daughter to the German psychopath as a show of his loyalty.  Smaug had kept Yazna for a few years until the dew was off the rose or the novelty of pedophilia had worn off, who could say.  But Yazna was a full operative for S.A.U.R.O.N., a more frightening woman didn’t walk the planet.

_S.A.U.R.O.N:  He does not have too.  Bolg will receive an email later today that MORDOR will not sanction him for removing his father from the situation. An attachment of Sigrid Bowman’s latest ultrasound will solidify his resolve._

So very cold and calculating.  It was the basis S.A.U.R.O.N’s core without the human element of feelings involved.  Sarumon had read the reports involving Bolg and his near obsession with the Bowman girl. For that monster to find out that she was pregnant already, would probably see all hell break loose to run free in Dale.

 

***********

The Palanteri network is something I see as like a back door to the internet.Not exactly as far reaching like Dark Web. I imagined that it started as connected hubs across the world through phone lines in the late 80’s like a FAX system. As an A.I. program, it was limited by tech but exploded as a virus as more and more lives became integrated online.Halbarad knows that there is a mole. He just doesn’t realize that it is the very computer network he is using. No one knows yet that SAURON is a functional A.I, they think the head of the Orcs is human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... I feel bad.. yes, a slight cliffhanger.. the next 2 chapters is almost finished .. will put the last of it on tonight.. I will probably post by the weekend, or try too. A character reared its head in the chapter 32 that tickled me because it was so close to the book..
> 
> Yazna is a double agent for Smaug, her loyalties are with him.
> 
> From the research I have, man portable rail guns are not available yet except in video games and movies. They are electrically charged but there are others that have different capabilities than firing projectiles. The only rail guns that are used currently are so large that they are mounted on battleships. Calling it a black arrow was a no brainer... lol..


	31. The Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 22 5:45 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath...

A silent procession brought out the first of the bodies within the burned out husk of what The Grind used to be. Even from her position in Bowman’s parking lot, Tauriel could hear the bellowing cries from the wounded on the street while rescue workers fetched and ran to add to the general chaos. The scorched hole was a dirty belly button on the long plane of buildings that fronted King’s Street. The surrounding stores had been evacuated, as a precaution.  deGray walked up and down the sidewalk, escorting people back to the barricades.

They stood at the edge in the gravel: Nileth and herself, as if walking forward like they might cause more damage to what they were seeing. The taller Silvan wrapped her arm about Tauriel’s shorter stature and almost refused to let her move.  A close call, she said. She wasn’t in favor of letting her go anywhere out of the public eye until Stone returned. Nori with his sneak thief ways, nimbly moved through the pandemonium to help as much as he could as well as spy.  Stone was scouting with him to find out if there were any Orcs or Spiders milling in the crowds. 

Bard was somewhere helping conduct the proper equipment to the right places.  Night was falling with many still trapped inside. It had been well planned, unfortunately.  There was a travel agency on one side and a hardware store on the left of the Grind, both were thriving businesses.  A wool store for hand spun products was having a demonstration on the sidewalk in front their store of their looms and on fashioned spindling on the other side of the Rivers Hardware.  Many of the bystanders were the first victims found.

She had been fortunate, having walked into Sugarlicious when the bomb had taken the coffee shop apart. The love of cake had finally saved her in some respects.  The loud booms had shaken the bakery, knocking down displays and pictures from the walls.  She had left the Grind not two minutes before that, the door to Sugarlicious hadn’t probably closed. There were others, many others, who didn’t have that kind of luck. 

People milled about outside, stunned and fearful at the ripped out crater.  The blank shock made their eyes look wider than normal like the white sclera was devouring their face. The cold didn’t have any mercy on the victims, forcing them to huddle together in small herds on the outskirts of EMS and Rescue vehicles. The flashing lights spiraled with the purplish hue on the red bricks, the sun finally turning away from the scene. The loud whine of generators married into the desperate crunch of the workers searching for the ones still alive in the rubble.

Tauriel shook her head slowly. The blasts had started at the rear of the building, multi-point precision to create a chain reaction of death. The delay between discharges had been about ten seconds, just enough time to trigger the flight response in the human mind. The people had been driven to the door in a mad panic rush. There had been packs of explosive in trashcans outside the door to catch any who might have made it out alive.  It had been very well coordinated and executed for maximum terror.

The ones who had been found so far were being taken to Esgaroth Medical Center for treatment and await their loved ones.  Even the dead. Tomorrow, there would be questions, people would demand answers. So far, twenty people woke up this morning for the last day of their lives. Fingers would be pointed and it frightened her that Erebor would be an easy target.

A loud horn blared behind the three of them with a squealing crunch of gravel. A black Ford F150 rushed into the Bowman Hunting parking lot at her back, screeching to a halt.  A large man jumped from the passenger side at a run, streaking to the burned building.  It was only when he got by her that Tauriel recognized the frantic man and by then, it was too late to stop him. Fili exited the big Ford on the driver’s side but couldn’t get around the hood to cut his cousin off.

“Gloin!” She shouted in his streaking direction.

Bofur stepped in front of the frenzied redhaired accountant, trying to hold him back or at least, slow him down.  Gloin was screaming by the time Tauriel got to his side, folding his arm around his back to pin him in place.  They struggled, wrestling with the barrel chested man to keep him from the building.  Fili appeared at her right, wrapping his arms around Gloin’s waist as the three of them pressed him to the sidewalk.  A few bystanders looked at them in dismay, a slight revulsion at the big man’s display of emotion that ruined their entertainment. It was the first time she had ever felt so violent towards a civilian.

“No! Gloin .. NO! You can’t go in!” Fili grabbed the back of the man’s head to push his face into his shoulder.  “You have to wait for the rescue workers to clear it..”

Gloin screaming continued, a howling song of pain mixed with French and Arabic words.  Tauriel grabbed Fili’s arm on one side while Bofur put a hand on her shoulders.  They walled the Durinson in, holding him in their arms as the screams transitioned into tears. She closed her eyes as Gloin shook in her arms, heaving sobs of despair.  A pricking began at the center of her lids as heated emotion flooded her mouth. 

A hand clasped her far shoulder, sliding down to rub her back.  Looking up, Tauriel met watery blue that belonged to Gandalf.  He silently shook his head, turning where another draped figure was carried to a waiting hearse. Bilbo was standing not far away from workers, suddenly covered her face and bowed her head.  Tauriel knew that the shrouded body was Gloin’s wife, no one had to tell her.

Oin jogged across the street with Stone and Nori right on his heels.  He took the curb at the same clip, never slowing. His attention was solely fixed upon his grieving brother.  They released him by degrees, slowly until Oin was there to hold him close.  Tears met tears as the brothers sob together, tragedy holding them both in an iron grip of agony. 

Fili sidled up to her with Bard and Bofur not too far away.  Thorin appeared as if by magic, his arm around Bilbo’s quivering shoulders.  “Oin, take care of Gloin.” Thorin spoke quietly. “We will make the arrangements and call Gimli.”

“No! NO!” Gloin roared suddenly, yanking away from his brother. He got right into Thorin’s face, insensible with rage. “Gimli stays in California. Do you hear?! Do Not Let Him Come Home!”

“He would want to know..” Gandalf began as Bilbo sidestepped out of the confrontation. “This was his mother. He deserves to know of her death.”

“Why?” Gloin rasped with misery leaking from his expression, wrapping his arms about his middle. “So that he can join her?  He won’t rest until his mother’s murder is avenged and you know we are not ready to take Smaug on head to head.”  His gaze swiveled to Bilbo, a deadly honed stare.

Tauriel stirred as did the others. Bilbo wasn’t a part of this, her blanched expression drew pity. The burglar wasn’t a fighter not like the harder MC crew. Her hands gripped the hilt of her baby sword until the knuckles were white.  The poor woman just wanted to go home, to have a quiet life again surrounded by her books.

She knew what Gloin asked, what everyone was begging for.  Make it stop, cut the Dragon until he bled out. They were making headway, but not fast enough if this latest attack was any indication.  Durin’s folk was strong at the Lonely Mountain, in Dale. It was their power base. Their strength incited Smaug’s challenge which in turn birthed this catastrophe. Looking around at those who waited, she saw fear but no anger. Not yet.

Oin and Gloin walked to a waiting van while Thorin pushed Bilbo to follow.  Thorin, Oin and Bofur along with one of the Luin twins had raced to Dale once Nori called it in.  Stone was already there in town for reasons of his own. Nileth had said that Gloin was at the Mine to pay respects to his father’s marker in the Silent Street and someone would have to have gotten him.  It was too far underground for cell reception. As far as she knew, Dwalin, Dis, Sigrid and the others were on locked down at Durinson house.  They might as well get comfortable because no one was leaving there tonight. 

With the Van loaded up and others quitting the scene, she felt at odd ends.  Watching the crowd gave her something to do but not enough, not nearly enough.  Stone put a hand her forearm then nodded to Nileth who followed Nori to the outskirts. 

“We’re losing, Stone.”  She told him quietly.

“No, we’re down but not out.” He folded put his hands under his long coat.  She could tell he was trying to cover up the short sword at his back. “We took some of his, now he took some of ours. It isn’t checkmate until you say it is.”

Fili approached Bard who looked at a loss for a few moments.  Tauriel watched the pair, hoping that something good might come of this tragedy.  Bard’s lip curled in distaste but he didn’t stalk away. Fili spoke quietly, completely lost in the din off the street. Bowman’s head turned away as her soon-to-be brother straightened up.  Their conversation was over but Kili’s brother didn’t look discouraged.  There was a light after all.

“Did you know her well?” Someone asked Tauriel just behind off her left side.

She whirled around to become face to face with Estel Strider, Thranduil’s chief of security. Stone stretched back his hand until Tauriel caught him. It was unnerving that she might be so distracted by the horror that anyone might walk up on her.  Shaking herself from her anger at herself and the situation, she took in the man beside her.  Estel Strider was just as lanky as she remembered from seeing him Thranduil’s office. The new chief wore khaki pants which looked painfully creased but the hunter green Mirkwood pullover suited his dark coloring.  She could see the sheaths at his back, covered by the fleece. His boots were muddy despite the lack of recent rain.  He had been down near the river or somewhere wet before coming here.  Looking behind him, she could see the wet trail from the alley way. 

Strange as he was, she turned back to where he indicated Mrs. Gloin’s body being loaded.  Following his gaze, Tauriel could pick out the Foresters from Mirkwood, walking amongst the people to hand out bottled water and crackers from shoulder coolers.  It was a thoughtful gesture, helping those on the outskirts. It wasn’t really in Thranduil’s nature to be so giving.

“Well enough to miss her.” Still scanning her immediate area, she asked. “I don’t see Thranduil.”

Her father would be hard to miss in the shifting mass. White blond hair with a serious addiction to white, he would easily stand out in the dirt and grime if his height didn’t put him head and shoulders above the rest. Thranduil wasn’t the type to like getting smuggy.

“He’s not here.  With our new guest in residence, an Orc attack in Dale like this might be used to draw my employer out into the open. I wouldn’t be a good chief if I let my boss get taken six weeks after I start.”  It was a self-deprecating smile, meant to poke fun at himself.  Yet, Tauriel got the distinct impression this man didn’t smile often. 

Just then, she saw Haldir at the fringe, talking to bystanders.  Angled as he was, Tauriel had a decent view to gauge the fact that this was the closest she had been to him since they had taken the shipment together days ago. The distance was minimal, entirely too close as if by design. His eyes felt hot, possessive, in such a manner that made her angrily uncomfortable. It was yet another reminder of why she had been ducking his calls and texts.  When Tauriel sought him to give a visual answer, a little thanks but no thanks, to his perusal, he was either staring at her boldly or turning away.

I know this game, she mentally sneered, men in Paris tried it too. They thought to intrigue her, set her wondering about them, thinking about them. She had seen it consummate in others until eye-fucking wasn't enough anymore. They wanted a voice to go with the looks, to have a soundtrack in their daydreams. It made no sense to her why fidelity became a problem for those who had a little cash in the bank. Tauriel wasn't built for those games, then or now.

Haldir was an old acquaintance; _that was all_. He was now an ally; _that was it_. If he had watched her fight and saw a new, younger Galadriel that he didn't have to share with a husband or numerous faceless others, he was shit out of luck. She had her man now and he had his chance then. As Kili was fond of saying, men could look at her for free, but he would charge an arm and a testicle if they touched her. _And gleefully take them._ The blood was a surcharge for his trouble.

The awful memory of that library incident reared its ugly head. Rubbing her face and smearing the soot, Tauriel felt so tired all of a sudden.  Another layer of problems that she had pushed aside in favor of the current catastrophe. Some men couldn’t understand that their charms are sometimes wasted, it had been true in Monsieur Valmont’s case.  The once debonair Frenchman couldn’t understand that she wasn’t leading him on some merry chase through the parties and Parisian salons; she really wanted nothing to do with him.  It had taken her braking off one of her heels into his groin and gifting his bodyguard with several stitches at the ear for the dolt to understand. Thank god she hadn’t liked the heels. 

Kili didn’t know and she wouldn’t tell him. At least, not for a while. Secrets have a way of rotting foundations when those foundations are meant to be built on truth and honor. Monsieur Valmont was a patron of Van Cleef; it would do Kili no good if it were known that his fiancé had smacked around a buyer.  Whether or not deserved it.

“If you have a moment, there is something you need to know.”  A deep voice tugged her away from her musings.   

Glanwen walked by, giving her a little wave before handing a bottle of water and crackers to a woman on the curb. Nileth was at her side with Nori behind them, another reminder that her attention was too diverted.  She hadn’t noticed their Silvan cousin was on the scene too _.  Get it together_.  Nothing would be served by her dwelling on things that couldn’t be changed or allowing grief to pull her down.  A job needed to be finished.

“What is it?” Tauriel asked as she shifted from one foot to the other. 

Estel drew a deep breath and right away she knew it was something bad.  Taking a drink or a deep breath or a sigh were indictors of doom lately. Tauriel wasn’t sure how deep the well of her capacity to cope went.  Lately, it felt like at some times she was hanging on by her fingernails and others like she had the bull by the horns.

“There was an infiltration at Grey Company’s headquarters in Paris.” 

Estel spoke quietly but he might as well have screamed. Nothing else could have inspired the sudden dread that enveloped her like a blanket.  Everything in her body when numb, a sweeping feeling of shock that robbed her sound and presence.  In the wake of the cold, a blast of heat exploded in her chest as her heart pounded into high gear. Someone grabbed her hands, shaking them violently.  Snapping her head back, Strider was entirely too close for her normal comfort.

“Listen to me!”  He whispered urgently, moving his body between her and the street. “He’s fine. Kili is FINE! His decoy was taken.  I just got a message from Halbarad that the head was dropped off on their doorstep thirty minutes ago.”

“Wait! What?”  She was trying to keep up, trying to make sense of what he was saying but it was next to impossible.

She had known about the decoy, a man that was employed to act like Kili in certain situations. With a hat on and surrounded by the Grey Company teams, the guy could fool just about anyone. The ringer would leave work at the exact time that Kili would if he stayed in the building to work late. Halbarad wanted to establish a routine for anyone who tried to take him.  Apparently, it hadn’t been a bad idea.

“What happened? Is he hurt?  Where is Kili now?”  Tragically, she could think about the innocent man and the horrors of his last moments later.  Right now, her love was in danger.

A few people gave her sympathetic looks as they walked by, thinking in error that her alarm was for the bombing. It was a fair assumption.  Pulling her shaking hands from Strider, Tauriel gritted her teeth to try and get some control over herself.

Strider leaned forward, speaking low. “We think this bombing was a diversion to grab Kili.  The Decoy was on the way to the headquarters, just getting out of the car when a van slammed into the entrance to cut him off. Another van pulled up with two men in the back that shot the guards and took our actor.”

Gasping for breath, Tauriel pushed his hands away. “Why do you think so?  Why bomb here and try to take him there?  You still haven’t told me where Kili is!”

To her left, Tauriel saw Fili running to her side with Stone right behind him. He was afraid and concerned, she could tell.  Quickly, Tauriel held out her hand to stop him, to keep him at bay.  Fili would lose his shit royally with Strider and worry about the consequences later if he walked up now.  She was barely holding herself from beating the information out of him. 

“Kili’s with some friends of mine.  They operate independently of Grey Company and based out of England.  They have agreed to help because they have no love for the Harad Espana who Halbarad has seen in the Boulevard Bourbon. Witnesses so far to the incursion are giving descriptions of a few key players in that cell.” He reached to take Tauriel’s hand only to meet air.  Taking two steps back, she stared him down as he continued. “Once Halbarad found out, he was in the process of sending some support units to be stationed in Lothlorien and Carrock for mutual aid. Using that much plastic explosive is very noticeable to covert agencies.  They _will_ come knocking on Rhovanion’s door very soon to find out why.” Strider held up his hands as he took a step forward.

Tauriel disagreed, pointing to the rubble. “I used more than that at Mount Gundabad and Smaug’s house.  No one has shown up. I want to talk to Halbarad before I just leave my fiancé in your friend’s hands.  No offence, but we don’t know each other and you work for my father who took Kili as a prisoner last year.”

The Harad Espana were not unknown to her.  A Basque Separatist group had been making waves in France and in Spain to incorporate a free state for their people. They were led an extremist named Bietan Jarrai who had furthered their cause in less time than any other leader.

Stone turned around to block a very determined Haldir who had crossed the street.  Frustrated at this situation, the best thing he could do was walk away else he could become very intimate with her fist. Fili joined the pair, gesturing to get Haldir to go somewhere else. Strider’s attention flickered to March Sentry then back to Tauriel. Bushy eyebrows rose up his forehead with a whole lot of questions behind those grey eyes.  She didn’t care what he thought, Kili was what mattered.

The range bodied chief tucked his hands in his back pocket, looking over the blown out brick and mortar debris.  The projectiles destroyed more an a few cars and businesses on the facing end. “Those areas that you mentioned are remote. You probably scared more deer than people.” He gave her a quick grin. “And no we don’t know each other but you trusted Thranduil with Frodo’s life, to keep him safe. And he will.  I didn’t know the Sindarin that well before Christmas but then I didn’t know you before I hired you.”

Tauriel reared back in surprise and anger. “I don’t work for Thranduil anymore; I do not work for you! Paris is my life now.  Halbarad is in charge of Grey Company and the owner is Aragorn Tel..”

“Telcontar.” He finished with a smile. “One of many names I use to stay one step ahead of my enemies.  Smaug didn’t start the Orc mercenary group. He’s just the current leader. They killed my father, stole from my family. That’s why I started Grey Company, to help others so that they never know the pain of that loss. I told Halbarad to hire you once I heard that you had left Mirkwood. You’re a great asset to us already and will only become more so in the years to come.”

“I’m confused. So very confused.” Tauriel shook her head, wrapping her arms around her waist in a vain attempt to hold herself together. “If you own Grey Company, why do you work for Thranduil? Why are you here?”

“I told you, Smaug is running the Orcs here but there are other cells with other leaders. Cutting off the tail of a snake won’t kill it, you have to find the head.  We don’t know who that is yet.” He looked again at the rubble, scratching his jaw. “With Smaug here and all the Orc activity, it seemed like a good cover to be Mirkwood’s Chief of Security. I can see the next question coming before you ask. Yes, Thranduil knows who I am and about you working for my company.”

It was a lot to think about, so much information all at once. All she could do was walk away. Tauriel patted her pockets for her cell. She pulled it out, firing off texts to Halbarad.  It was in the middle of the night in Paris but with the attack, her boss would still be up. Punching the keys quickly, she almost ran into trash receptacle in her haste. Her breathing came in pants, in furious spasms in her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill at the thought of Kili’s danger.  She hadn’t even asked about the man who was killed in Kili’s place.

The phone chimed, pulling her back from the brink of her heartache. Halbarad confirmed everything that Strider or Aragorn whatever whatever told her. He was the boss, her boss, and Kili was safe. Halbarad promised that as soon as they could he would put Kili on a phone or on a plane.

The tears fell, unchecked.  He was alive, somewhere in Paris.  The phone chimed again, vibrating in her hand.  The incoming text stopped her cold.

_There’s a mole somewhere. Watch your back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comment of the blood is a surcharge for his trouble is a reference to Merchant of Venice where the Shylock was granted the flesh but was unable to take the blood that would be spilled in the process. To me that was a classic case of finding a loophole lol.  
> Telcontar is the Quenyan word for Elessar. It was the name that Aragorn took for his royal house in the fourth age.  
> Monsieur Valmont is the lead character from Dangerous Liaisons. A notorious libertine who seduces the innocent for fun and a bet. It seemed appropriate for the name.
> 
> I chose Mrs. Gloin because I need Gimli's head in a certain place at the end and in Part 6. It was hard writing her up in the previous chapters then, killing her in the blast.


	32. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 22 11:55 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things in this chapter.
> 
> Sadness, Smut and a Surprise... rather fun smut...
> 
> There was some revampedness to chapter 33 because I am an idiot.. didn't change the plot too much..

 

Bee fumbled out of the shower, dripping on the mat as she grabbed a towel off the toilet. The spray was hot enough to loosen her muscles with enough water pressure on her face to hide her tears. The fan still roared with a single minded drone that blotted out all sound completely. The mono rumble overhead didn’t push the thoughts away, didn’t dull the ache left after the tears stopped falling.  She hadn’t known Mrs. Gloin long, losing her in that fashion hurt just the same.  She had been a kind woman, helpful and sweet.

So much death, and so much more to come.  The Luin twins had come to Dale to get her. Gandalf had to put her in the truck with them to get her to leave. Nileth, Tauriel’s cousin had come along too. Thorin was more than grim, he was livid.  His people were dying, good people, innocents.  Leaving him hadn’t been her idea, it sucked that she couldn’t be a source of comfort for him.

The night had wound into nothing, shredding the day into ribbons. Dori had left hours ago, baking on Thorin’s stoves due to the size. His agitation fidgeted his actions, hopping from one dish to another in a vain hope of quieting his own mind.  He had little to say about Gloin or Oin.  The eldest MacDurin no doubt knew that Gloin felt she was somehow responsible for this.  But she _was_ trying, damnit!  The Orcs couldn’t all be killed in a day.

The house creaked and settled as the HVAC system pushed hot air into the walls as the big clock chimed midnight. Bilbo smiled, always liking the midnight hour best. It's easier to say things in the dark. It was easier to be herself. On the other side, it was too easy to be lonely.  Just like now.

Rubbing the soft terrycloth down the curved lines her body, she walked into the bedroom. Shutting off the panorama of light on glass that was the bathroom. For once, it had failed to cheer her up. No sense staring at glass covered walls, no matter how pretty. It didn’t change how today ended. She had left a t shirt and panties in the chair to sleep in tonight.  The house was warm enough that Bee needed little else.  She was in the process of toweling her damp hair only to realize that she wasn’t alone.

Thorin stood in the far corner of her bedroom, his back against the door with his arms crossing his barrel chest. Bee wasn’t sure when he had walked in, impressively quiet too. He stared at her with the same intensity that made her feel stripped bare, even if she had been clothed.  Bee froze, like a gazelle caught by a lion hunting for another meal.  He was a lion, a dark one.  The black hair with his brushings of gray at the crown was usually braided down his back now lay free is deep waves on his broad shoulders.  It was so soft that hair, she remembered clinching tightly as he licked her sensitive nipples until she came.  Once upon a time…..

She wanted to ask why he was here with so much happening tonight. Bilbo started to say something, to ask.  His clothes were dirty from the rubble; he hadn’t changed once he got home.  There had been so many buffers between them she supposed. So many people crowding Durin’s House to the brim. His sister, Dis was always around with Sigrid and Tauriel in the evenings. He had to be lonely on quieter days.

But there was no one in the house now.  They were alone.  She was nude.

The tension was thick in the room as they stared, neither moving nor speaking. She had hoped he would come to her, in the darkness they could be together if only for a little while before the dawn ripped their time away.  But as the nights stretched into day and he never knocked on her door, Bilbo had started to push that same fragile hope to the background so that she could get through her waking moments.  Now he had come and she didn’t know what to say to him.  It was unbearable until a sneer creased his lips and the black lion finally pounced, stalking her in long strides.

“What do you want?” she asked, meeting his intense gaze.

“You, Bilbo. Always you."

Thorin had her pressed against the wall in the space of heartbeat.  He was a head taller than her, stockier through the body.  She felt his hands start at her hips, dragging his fingers over her damp skin.  His smile went from amused to sexual, so charged with promise that carnal was the only way to describe it. His voice didn't rise. If anything it lowered, sliding seductively over her nerve endings. Bee shivered, a streak of lust shooting downward and settling in a sharp, hard pulse between her legs. Her nether lips and the tiny little pearl that seemed to cause her so much pain—and pleasure—were unbound to the ambient air.   

She might expire from the thought of having hurt him.  His fingers found her breasts, squeezing until they alighted on her plump nipples. Bilbo gasped when he squeezed it. Harder than anyone else ever had, herself included. The callused pad of his thumb pressed down on her nipple, drawing a tortured moan from her lips.  

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Her breath snagged as her imagination took the helm. It had been so very long.

She hadn’t realized that arousal could actually hurt. The heated flush rose up her body, a big red flag to signal her desire. It paralyzed her throat and throbbed between her legs, sending pinpricks of excitement racing along her flesh.

“Do you?” he prompted.

After a long, heart-pounding beat, she nodded. His eyes burned as his thumb toyed with her nipple. He stroked lazy little circles around the rigid bud, and Bilbo was frozen in place, held captive by his heated gaze and the almost-painful pulsing of her clit.

He muttered. “Do you think you can handle it?”

She managed another nod, then fought a dizzying rush of pleasure as he pinched her nipple. When he abruptly released her breast, she nearly wept from the loss of his hand. He must have glimpsed her disappointment because he chuckled again. In the blink of an eye, he reached out and cupped the breast she’d been wantonly rubbing against him.

“Please.” One word, rippling with desperation. Then she uttered it again, this time in the form of a whimper. “Please.”

While Bee’s skin might have been pebbled with cold, his blazing heat brought a different reaction. The searing kind of heat that boiled her blood and had her begging as he took one nipple into his mouth.  He studied her as he flicked the beaded skin with his tongue, then lapped droplets of water in her cleavage. Bee shivered from the contact, her soft moans making him clutch her tighter. 

The bite of his leather buckles added a little pain to her passion cocktail but that was ok too.  Bee ground her mound against his belt, gasping as he hoisted her up the wall behind her. She dug her fingers into the wall to keep from sliding, her sex clinching with need.  He grunted sentences as he touched, growled them really. Bilbo knew she said them back, screamed them but what they were exactly or what language was beyond her now.  Thorin hissed around her nipples as she continued to ride against him.  He would give her pleasure, more than her mind could take at once but it was on his terms.

He dragged his tongue across her nipples once, twice, making her want to scream for him to fill her already.  Bee wanted his cock inside her, pounding away their frustration. His hands destroyed her but awoke an ache that she had suppressed every time he was near.  It wasn’t like it had been before at Devil’s Night, where it is been hands and lips mixed with the pleas for more.  This was too controlled, too one sided. She began to wiggle, almost pushing him away.

“No.” Thorin groaned. “I want to you burn for me. I want you to want my cock so bad it hurts.”

He sucked briefly on her tongue, giving her a little burst of heat down low inside, then licked her bottom lip and kissed her cheek and jaw. His stubble rasped against her skin and a thrill ran through her in hot squiggles.

“Already there.” She gasped as the back of her head hit the wall for the second time.  He was methodically stripping away her shields that had kept her sane for so long.

When she bent her leg and her hips rose, he captured that leg to put it over his side, locking her in place.  The stocky frame would take her weight as if it was a feather on the wind, so strong was he even at his age. His hand slipped around the muscular thigh as he steadied his grip, carrying her to the bed.  He closed his eyes as she gazed up at him at the feeling of her sex as he spread the moisture around the springy hairs at her slit. 

“I am going to tease you. Again and again.” Bee whimpered at the rough edge to his voice. ”Until there is nothing in this world you will ever want but my cock sliding inside you.”

“Oh god..Thorin!”  There was too much yearning in those words and it scared her. This was going to break her mind as well as her soul and in the end she wouldn’t have any will left.

His mouth was back at her nipples, drawing the hard buds with practiced nips and soothing swipes.  Her blood was on the shady side of boiling with no indications that he would stop. Thorin slid a finger inside her with slow, gentle strokes.  Those fingers would drive her over the brink, then bring her back to beg for more!  Her need for him was building, drawing away recourses from her higher brain functions.  As he continued to push in and out of her tight sex, Bee tried for his cock but he drew his hips back out of her reach.

“Please Thorin!”

He licked up to her neck, biting and then pulling on the earlobe. Bee bucked her hips against his hand as he chuckled darkly, adding another finger. There was an obscene squishing noise as his blunt fingers continued to stroke between her legs.   She was so hot, clinching his shirt as she tried to ride his fingers harder only to have him stop altogether. She screamed in his ear, passion fueling her anger that he would do this. Bee was so wet, so close even with his idle petting.

Thorin pushed himself away, grabbing her flailing arms as she meant to hit him.  Bee wasn’t a fighter, she was a runner, agile and quick.  Thorin was built like a tank, could take a hit but that didn’t mean he liked it.  But even for his size he was faster than she would have thought.  He settled between her legs, pushing her up the bed as he latched on to her clit with an unerring determination.

He squeezed her buttocks hard as she wailed at the contact. Blindly, she grabbed handfuls of blankets as he licked her swollen lips, tugging them lightly with his teeth.

“You gonna run on me again if I let you have my cock, baby girl?” He drawled before rubbing tongue against her once more.

“No!” Thorin looked at her face as she said the single word.

“Liar.”

He bent down to her once more, licking gently, lulling her before shocking her with a thrust of his tongue inside her pussy. Bee arched off he bed, moaning. She could feel him grinning, the smug bastard as he curled his tongue inside her once more. He spread her legs wide before him, forcing her to open to everything he wanted to do. Bee grabbed her aching breasts, pinching the hard points. Thorin sampled her thoroughly, unable to get enough. Bee was shaking hard now, so lost in her need to come.

“Well?”

“No. I won’t leave you.” There were tears in her voice to match the ones sliding down her face.  She wouldn’t leave; this was all she ever wanted.

Thorin undressed quickly, clothes were flying through the air like acrobats in a circus. The condom was a necessary thing but he didn’t shirk. Thorin surged in, his groans mingling with hers as he stretched her. Bee could feel his heavy ball sack rubbing against her perineum, making her quiver as she pulled him close. She wanted him in her ass, those delicious studs rubbing south but that would be later.

Thorin pulled out to thrust harder, his teeth gnashing in his own need.  He had made his point, she wouldn’t leave, now he could let go.  His damp chest rubbed against her bouncing breasts ramping up her pleasure to the next level. With each pump of his thick member, he tugged her closer in a tighter. Unable to breathe through the pleasure, Thorin grinded mindlessly on her clit, her breathing reduced to gasps.

“Come for me, baby girl.” His mouth was on her shoulder making her wild for more.

Her response was an unintelligible cry, as she spread herself wider, pulling her legs up his back. Bee savagely scratched up his chest with her little blunt nails, his muscles tensing in reflex.   She arched against him once more, slamming her hips to his as her orgasm hit.

Thorin took her hands, raising them above her head as he groaned against her hair.  Bilbo’s eyes were wide open as the final crest of her release passed her by. The orgasm was so acute, she couldn’t unlock herself just yet but it afforded her a rare experience. When his peak hit at that moment, the pleasure so harsh on his face that it looked to be painful. Thorin’s hips surged giving minute thrusts as he came.  Unlike her, he closed his eyes almost at peace while he finished. He laid his forehead on her chest as he tried to catch his breath. 

Bee noticed the silver threading in that shaggy black mane seemed more pronounced now than it had before the loss of his family.  There wasn’t much last fall but it was there, evidence that time was marching on even for Thorin Oakenshield.  He was strong still, a man in prime if the last few minutes were any indication. Forty eight wasn’t old, none would dare use that word as a description for him. She had never noticed the crinkles in the corners of his eyes until as he raised his head now to look at her.  Bee didn’t care for any of it after all because age was just a number. She cared about _him_.

He stroked his hand against her hair, his fingers softly combing against her scalp. “I can’t seem to get enough of you, Bilbo.”

“So greedy,” she whispered, absolutely melting at his words. Skin against skin, body against body, it was the most intimate moment of her whole life, not just because they were naked, but because they were so exposed.

“You are staying with me tonight.”  It was a statement, not a request.  The King under the Mountain had spoken. “Everynight. Never letting you go.”

She nodded her assent, there was nothing else for it. 

 

**88**

He stared at his reflection.  It was an odd thing to see a different person in the beveled glass.  His fingers combed the blond waves on his head and so did the stranger in the mirror.  Turning his head from one side to another didn’t help, it was a shocker and make no mistake. 

“It grows out if that helps any.” A tall man stood in the doorway watching him struggle with the change. “Did you never dye your hair in high school or college?”

“No.” It was a quiet admission.

It’s just hair, Kili chided himself. It will grow out and he can buzz cut it.  A little color is better than losing his life. He took the towel, running into the wet mop to finish drying hit out.  The man in the door didn’t leave right away, leaned into the jamb as he looked down the hall at the others.  The noise from the living room was dying out like the embers of a fire.

It had been hectic today, more so than normal.  Halbarad had come personally to VC at Place Vendrome to get him.  Along with the man who was presently crowding him in the small bathroom.  Kili took a good look at the man who was going to be responsible for his safety for the next week.  Taller than himself with the same lanky build he was coming to associate with Europeans, he had shaggy hair in shades of sand and bark.  Dishwater blond kinda like Kili’s new color.

What would Tauriel say? He thought as he hung up the towel over the bar.  When they arrived at this emergency safe house, an auburn haired male had thrown a box of color at him, telling him to use the bathroom and shave.  Looking down at the dark scraped hairs mixed with shaving cream along the sink’s rim, it was no wonder he felt odd.  He looked more like his brother Fili when he went baby face smooth.  He would have to do the razor thing twice a day to keep his five o’clock shadow at bay. 

“Got a cigarette?” Kili asked, taking a seat on the lip of the claw foot bathtub.  

Pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he scrubbed them harshly.  Sleep had been precious and elusive since Tauriel had left.  He missed her so much every day, every hour.  It made him feel disembodied, like half of his soul had been ripped away.  Taking a deep breath, he laid his head back on to stare at the ceiling while his companion ruffled though his pockets.

“I didn’t think you smoked?”  He asked as he took out a pack of Dunhills and a lighter.  He shook out one and handed the box to Kili.

Taking the cigarette, he put it in his mouth while the lighter flared to life. “I don’t.”

He leaned forward so that the tip caught the flame and flared to life. Drawing deeply, then blowing out the stream of smoke to the ceiling, he fought off the urge to cough as his new friend joined him.  The lanky blond flipped on the overhead exhaust as he tucked the lighter and cigarettes into his jacket.  The steady draw and exhale filled the tight space for a few minutes as each man was lost in his thoughts.

“I like my pipe better.  But when in Paris… _Are_ we still in Paris?” Kili asked, shifting on the porcelain side.

“Yeah.  Don’t ask where, though.” 

Don’t ask, don’t tell.  It had been the story of his life in the last week.  Grey Company was very good to him, giving Kili a nice twin bed in their basement.  It was utilitarian with storage drawers underneath and a shelf built into the head and foot board. Tauriel’s bed for when she worked twelve hour rotations.  Kili could tell most the men in the group here ex-military, their bunks were clean and straight every day. 

There was an escape tunnel built to one side just in case so they wouldn’t be trapped. Kili couldn’t say that for this building.  He had only a cursory look as he climbed the stairs to the third floor landing.

Kili stared at the blond guy for a few minutes. “There wasn’t time to get your name.”

“No, there wasn’t.” His accent was raspy.

It was a crash and run basically.  Halbarad had given him the bare gist, saying that Grey Company’s headquarters had been hit and his doppleganger had been taken.  After that, the big man had thrown Kili into a cargo van with three other men, racing to a second parked behind them.  The ride to this safe house had been a rocking roll of a good time. No one spoke, each starting at a different window at any possible pursuit.

“Hurin, Faramir Hurin.  My brother, Boromir, is the brunette. The ginger’s Beregond.  We will be bunking with you for a few days.”  He flicked the ash into the sink and turned the tap. “Halbarad gave us the particulars on your situation. I wish there was another site you could work instead of going back to the one place they know you’ll be.”

Kili shook his head as he tossed the stub into the toilet.  He really wasn’t a fan of wet paper between his lips. “The only other factory is in Hong Kong.  VC has been very generous so far and tolerate.  I don’t want to push it any more than I have.”

Strange security in their building, one of their newest designers working different hours and any time of the day?  Yes, Van Cleef had been very tolerate and understanding.  Michel seemed glad that Kili was so willing to do what was needed to get this job finished.  Kili rubbed his hands on his pants, hating the show of anxiety.  Compared to the designers in the building who were alcoholics, drug addicts and on anti-depressants because while brilliant, they had viciously low self-esteem. Kili’s situation was quirky and fun when you looked at Dae Mirdan’s drunken ravings after lunch. It was like dinner theater.

“You’re English, huh?” Kili asked, shifting his ass on the narrow ledge. “How do you know Halbarad?”

A blast of laughter from the living area, drew Faramir’s attention again. A door slammed somewhere other than the front.  Faramir’s profile was pale with pink rimmed eyes.  Not an albino cast but he wasn’t from a sun loving country and his accent said as much.  The man nodded with a smile before easing back into the hall.  His jeans were nothing special nor was the plain washed out brown shirt.  He wasn’t designed to be noticed, but a chameleon to blend in.  Young, he could pass for a college student if you gave him a back pack.

“Yeah.  Though we spend more time in England than Paris.” 

A light scuff along the wall told Kili that Faramir was still armed at his back. He didn’t wear a belt to protect the holster’s clip from scrapping the plaster. Living in New Hampshire, he didn’t have the time with guns that he would like.  Everywhere else in the world, normal people fired off round after round rather than getting up and close to do their dirty work.  Thorin had been a big advocate of using swords, praising skill rather than luck.  _Thorin_ …

“If this happened here, can you tell me if anything happened to my fiancé in America? My family?”  He tried and failed to get Faramir to look him in the eye.  It didn’t make him feel any better. “You know something, don’t you?”

Fear rippled through him.  The idea that something might have happened to her just didn’t compute for his brain.  The shaking in his hands got worse until the tremors snaked up his forearms. Clenching his hands didn’t stop it, just made him look like he was beating his knees.

“A bomb was planted in Dale.” Faramir held his hand up quickly, seeing Kili’s expression as he jumped up from the tub. “We don’t have any details confirmed yet. Tomorrow, we’ll know more.”

“Casualties?”  He croaked the word, lacing it with his fear.

“Aragorn will call tomorrow.  He heads Grey Company and is a good guy.” Faramir smiled quietly.

A woman stepped into the doorway who was just as tall as Faramir.  Her long rain coat swished about her tall black boots.  The plaid skirt fitted her thighs yet showed unfortunately knobby knees covered in black printed tights. She ran a hand through a pixie cut hair colored somewhere between brown and black depending on the light.  Young, she drapped an arm about Faramir’s shoulders.

“Beth. I want you to meet your new boyfriend.” Faramir told her as he kissed her cheek.

A wide smile pulled her lips into a happy expression. She had a striking face, pretty in a sharp boned way.  Her nose was what saved her face from being ferret like.  She squinted hazel eyes, artfully made up at him as if doing so might tell her all his secrets.

“I have good taste!” She smirked, _her_ accent rather hard to place. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll keep the PDA to a minimum.”

Kili’s attention swung to Faramir with concern.  If Tauriel heard about another woman hanging on him, there would be blood. Beth appeared to be a nice girl, no sense dying young.  His woman was a lot of things but she refused to share.  A few women had found that out the hard way.

“I don’t think my fiancé would be ok with that.”  That was a mild understatement.

“With a new look, we need a new identity and a story to get you into the building at Place Vendrome.  You have just given your girlfriend, Beth Mindam, a course of study at Van Cleef for her birthday. It will be up to you to make contact with your boss once you are in the building. Beth will go down the classrooms during the day while you work.”

Kili was impressed.  He knew that on the second floor, the public would pay to take gemology classes from the company. It was a public relations thing that generated revenue and give people a thrill from playing with the loose stones at the same time. He knew Michel, his boss, would go if the classes were shorthanded but so far, Kili had not.

“Don’t worry. I would probably be more into your fiancé than you, sweetheart.”

Faramir chuckled as Kili blushed.  He was sure if he was insulted or flattered. He wasn’t sure if Tauriel would be insulted or flattered either.  Hurin turned profile for a moment to whisper something in Beth’s ear before she winked at him and sauntered away.  It was that déjà vu feeling that he got whenever he crossed pieces that he had made at Erebor. 

“Do we know each other?” Kili asked, walking out of the bathroom. “I think we have met before. Maybe at a party or something?”

The sensation was just out of reach. Quickly, his brain tried to add this man’s face to places he had been in Paris, parties or maybe on the Tube.  Nothing fit and it was beginning to annoy him.  Worse, Faramir’s grin stretched a little wider, hitching a shoulder in a mocked response.  The bastard knows something, Kili thought, but from where?

“Once, not really worth repeating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dae Mirdan was the name of an expert jeweler in the Jeweler’s guild in North Downs in the LOTR game.   
> Beregond was a friend of Faramir and became the head of the White Company of Ithilien. I want to incorporate as many of the characters from the original story as possible.   
> Beth Mindam is really Mindambeth who was a ranger player in the online game.  
> In the Hobbit, Kili and Fili and Thorin had blond hair. I thought that this was a cute reference to that factoid. I am in no way condemning Aiden Turner or Richard Armitage. They are delicious eye candy.
> 
> From I'm Bound to You chptr 34.. Kili and Boromir with Faramir had a rather quick intro lol


	33. The Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG an update!!!!!  
> February 23, 3:45 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV with Bilbo smut

Bikes are like women. 

Thorin held that mantra to be correct since he took his first motorcycle apart.  They require the same finesse, the same care and love. Looking over the calipers on the ’77 Confederate Edition Harley he was restoring, it was never truer than in this case. It was backbreaking work, but every hour lost was one that brought him closer to a running machine.

The older the girl, the more love they required.

The garage was located at the back of the MC’s clubhouse where all the members stored their bikes for the winter. Ghostly swaths lined up the bays, each rocker winterized. Some had more than one or a project like Thorin. However, no one in the MC rode in the dreary months and wouldn’t ride together again until well after the last frost. They didn’t have a hankering to be squid. Taking the screwdriver to release the pads, Durinson missed the club rides.  The wind in his hair, the feeling of freedom and the open road. 

Large stand up tool chests lined the back wall along with trash cans, compressors and impact wrenches arranged upon the peg board in neat rows. Every few feet, there were eye wash stations in deep sinks with paper towels and industrial grade cleaners on overhead shelves.  Looking down at his oil and dirt smudged fingers, he knew that he would need to take the scrub brush to the cracks in his hands before he thought about touching Bee again. His wild night with her was everything he had dreamed, had longed to have again. The destruction in Dale had pushed him finally into her bed, the need for her was so much more than bowing to his pride. Life was finite, especially his. Make the memories and gather them like the rosebuds.

He was happy, sad and angry all at once. The bleak winter day didn’t help him, February was just another dark month in New Hampshire after all the fall color had faded from the trees. It was a reminder to Thorin about riding out on his rocker, searching for any escape. Turmoil seeped in the air, a pallor of low lying misery. It frustrated him, made him feel as useless as tits on a boar.  He couldn’t figure out a way to protect his people other than hunkering down in the mountain like their ancestors used to do. Death was coming, flying on a wind in the form of a red dragon.  The Lonely Mountain might not protect them this time.

Emotional blenders like that never put him in a good mood. He knew that about himself, hence a day out in the garage. Frerin, Thrain and the others were calling in his sleep, wailing for vengeance. Thorin sneered as he worked, wanting to go out and rip every Orc in two.  Yet, that wasn’t what a commander did, striking out on his own.  He sent the pawns, the knights to the front lines as the expendables to clear the way. With that in mind, he squirreled away from everyone until he could get his shit squared. 

Pulling another cart and a chair to the disassembled Harley, he took the small tools to screw in the new pads.  The Confederate Edition hadn’t been a popular model despite its homage to the Bicentennial in the 1970s.  Running a hand over the back fender with its faded toned paint, she would roar just as loud as his Shovelhead Custom It was something personal rather than Club related, a relic that his grandad Thror had bought and ridden.  Thrain had all but ignored it, preferring his chopper with tasseled ape hangers to all else.

Working with his hands like this helped him sort out the crap. Too much was going down on his watch, and the rockslide just kept coming. Maybe Thorin was a negative motherfucker for dwelling on the chaos and destruction, but what was he supposed to do—act like everything was fine and dandy? Pretend that his life was filled with rainbows and lollipops? The fucking Dragon was making bombs now, blowing them up in his town!

Amali, Gloin’s wife, was just the last casualty in an unwinding spool of death.  Oin was with Gloin as of this morning when Thorin went by there. He had sat with Gloin who stared glassy eyed at a blank TV screen on the wall. Thorin hadn’t seen his big sword anywhere, but was afraid to ask after it. Someone might have taken it out of the house for Gloin’s better interests.

Oin kept up a steady stream of words like each one was an anchor to his brother’s subconscious.  His friend had checked out with his grief, more than Thorin had for his brother and father.  Gloin had loved his wife too much, relying on Amali to keep his heart and soul together. With her gone, he was a breathing corpse.

He had asked after Gimli again, getting a violent twitch from the bushy redhead in the recliner.  It was a bad subject, Thorin could tell.  Oin just shook his head and said little else.  The stagnant feelings lifted somewhat when Fili’s woman showed up with a breakfast casserole.  It smelled heavenly, reminding Thorin he had run out before Dori or Bee had hit the kitchen. Taking his leave seemed like the better part of the deal, letting the Bowman girl clean and cook.

The medic looked older, close to death himself. It was a slap at mortality that his friends were starting to show their age. Sitting back on the stool, Thorin mentally grumbled to himself that age was just a number. Balin, Dwalin, Oin and the others were the part of the Founding Six as he called them. They had grown up together, fought together, loved and lost together.  Durinson, MacDurin, it didn’t matter what their name was. They were Durin’s Folk. 

Thorin began to catalog and inventory his problems, the shit list that never ended. He wasn’t too close to Gimli, so telling him about his mother was sticking his nose in too far. Oin, as his nearest sane relative, would make that decision. Since Amali was a Durinson wife, she could be buried in the Silent Street if Gloin chose, along with himself and Gimli. Mahal willing, it would be a long time before they walked another Durinson into the deeps. 

The sun was on the downswing this close to 4:30, and Erebor didn’t yet have the clean white snow to hide all its craggy sins. It was coming later tonight. Thorin could see the thick clouds to the south, letting his mind fixate on Dwalin and where he was.  A fierce wind would sweep into Dale as night came only to breaker against the Lonely Mountain in ebbing waves. The Long Lake had a tendency to mix in moisture, turning into sleet that would drive freezing pain into everyone dumb enough to brave it.

The alignment on the bike would need to be adjusted, so Thorin removed the trees next on the front end.  He had no idea when he might be able to get back out here now that he had his woman where he wanted her. Yet, it was too fast, Thorin was falling too hard. Nobody else made him feel so alive and vigorous. The captivating surprise on her face when he fucked her really got him going. He never wanted it to end. Yet, Thorin knew that one night in his bed did not a relationship make.

“Spring is the time of plans and projects.” A voice called from the bay opening. “Strange that you would start something so ambitious now.”

Thorin closed his eyes and prayed for strength before signing.  If it had been someone else, the Oakenshield would have just slammed the door in their face.  Dropping his tools on the table, he rolled his head on his shoulders for the coming nagfest that he would be subjected.  Working on his bike was his time, not something to share with the mettlesome herald of woe.  

The tall man silhouetted in the weak sun let his long gray coat flap in the breeze.  The careworn expression was something Thorin knew well after all these weeks of his constant presence. He only gave Gandalf that same long stare, full of quiet contempt for him whether he was sheriff or president. 

“What could we possibly have to say that hasn’t already been said?”

Gandalf rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest.  The sword Tauriel gave him hung from a thick web belt with the long pointed hilt allowing the wind to flap his coat open further.  His own sword was on the table at his back but with the array of wrenches and other assorted tools, the Oakenshield wasn’t defenseless.  It wasn’t a battle that brought the sheriff to his door, no the lanky bastard wanted what he always wanted.

“Bilbo is inside the clubhouse.”  Thorin began wiping the excess grease off his hands as he walked to the closest sink.

He wasn’t worried about turning his back.  It wasn’t that he was being overly confident, Thorin knew his adversary. All his adversaries. Luke warm water splashed his hands.  The pipes were insulated in the club house with a heavy grade water heater but the lines that ran to the outdoor sinks had heat tape to keep them from freezing and bursting.  This washoff would get him into the outer mudroom where the water was hotter and the solvent would work better.

“You know why I’m here.  We need to have a sit down with Thranduil, Bard and Galadriel. There has to be terms for all of us to come together to defeat Smaug!”

He aimed and fired every word but Thorin shrugged them off.  Partners had a way of asking for more and more as the partnership wore on.  Thranduil and his meanly mouthed group basically owned Dale now with Bard was peeved at Fili. Bowman had once been his own man yet that had changed to where he was bending over for the Sindarin on occasion.

Galadriel and her boy squad were no better.  Brilliant and cold, she held the leashes of too many already. Nobody put a collar on Thorin Oakenshield!  He was in the driver’s seat in the relationship, not some frigid witch with a whip.

He didn’t have time or the patience to discuss Thranduil Sindarin.

“You seem to be under the impression we need help.  Tauriel has been making progress. Dwalin is as we speak clearing out that bar on Forestgate.” 

Thorin had refused to tell anyone of what Dwalin planned, letting the big man have a turn.  Bofur, Bifur and few others were joining him to lend a hand.  He was tired of having that nest at his back, a Spider infestation and rally point for the Gundabad Orcs. Tauriel hadn’t been invited, giving rise to the notion that Erebor could take care of things just as well as she.  Gandalf’s face slid into worry before closing off altogether.

Thorin met him at the door, not wanting the man in his sanctuary.  No one came here that wasn’t vetted first. It put him farther from his weapons but he didn’t care.  It also kept him from throwing something in his rage at the old man.

“Amali, Merethin, Bombur, Frerin, Thrain and all the others yet to come.  None of them will thank you for their deaths in the afterlife.” Gandalf took a step closer, the hilt of his sword brushing Thorin’s sweatshirt. “You could have prevented all of this if you unbent a little. Ask for help and give it return.”

The absolute crushing interference was getting on his last damn fucking nerve. Bringing up Merry, Tauriel’s mother was the last straw. “Old man, you better ease up out of my face before something bad happens to you. Take your shit with you when you go!”   

Gandalf reared back, disdainful in his anger.  The flowing beard was positively bristling. The talking was over as Thorin reached to grab the door.  Slamming it in Gandalf’s face was definitely in order.

The old sheriff stayed the slam, catching it at the edge to growl in Durinson’s face. “Gods save me from the stubbornness of Durin’s Folk!  Your pride, Thorin Oakenshield, will be your downfall!”

The sheriff’s coat snapped in the wind as he stalked away, making Thorin feel worse that shit because the man was right. Regret soured in his stomach, churning it into a whirlpool. His choices were slim and the decisions he made so far were wrong. However, explaining all this to others hadn’t worked or they just didn’t understand what he faced. Bringing up the dead was a low thing to say, the pain of wounds that would never heal.

It’s hard not to hate for the pain he felt. People, like Smaug and Azog. When they tried to break the spirit and take pleasure in watching their victims bleed, hate was the only feeling to Thorin that made sense. But hate was a deceiver, tearing men apart. It had turned him into something he’s not. Thorin was tired of the weight, of all the awful things he felt in his heart. Saying he wanted to set down his burden, that didn’t make him weak, only human.

There are weak men; men who run and hide when life slaps them in the ass. Then there are men; men who have a backbone yet occasionally, when life slaps them in the ass, will rely on others. Gandalf fell in that category all day. Thorin had respect for the old man right then. It took balls to come here with his hat in his hand, then call him on his shit.

Gandalf, Beorn and a few others, those were real men; men who don’t cry or complain, who don’t just have a backbone, they were the backbone. Men who make their own decisions and live with the consequences, who accept responsibility for their actions or words. Men who, when life slaps them in the ass, they slap back and move on. Men who live hard and die even harder.

The same could be said for every one of his crew. Though he had doubts about the Iron Hills patch. On days like today, he had doubts about himself. Thoughts of his father and his brother and who they were, came and went. Mostly went.

He heard Bee call from the door into the clubhouse. “Gandalf? Where are you going?”

Thorin opened the back door to the mudroom, hearing the motions of someone cleaning. Bilbo closed the door with a bang, obviously ignored by the sheriff who wanted to get out of Erebor. He knew Dis had come with his woman while Dori worked today.  Hopefully, there were some courses that the MacDurin might take or at least persuade Stone in reference to Quality Control until Thorin could nail Kili’s hide to the lab.  His youngest nephew was becoming an absent pain in his neck. 

Dis wanted to have everyone come down to the clubhouse for a night of just Durin’s Folk, a memorial of sorts for those who had passed.  Privately, he thought she wanted to let others know that if they died for Erebor, the fallen would be remembered too. It was pleasant, a sweet sentiment. Taking the wire brush and cleaning solvent, Thorin began working on his dirty hands from the nail beds to the wrists.  Women were funny about that shit.

After the convo with deGray, the Oakenshield knew his twitchy feelings were on the upswing. The urge for movement, action, anything was hard to ignore.  At this point, a good fight or a good fuck worked those urges right on out of him. With Bee close by, he was hoping to get laid again in the next hour. The hot splash of water on his sleeves, yet it did nothing to dampen his ardor. Energy fed gooseflesh that dotted his forearms, his craving spurring him on.

“We are, all of us, screwed up in some way,” Dis said with an echoing voice. It drew Thorin’s attention to see the two ladies sweeping the front lounge. “The only difference is a matter of how deep our crazy goes and how we handle the load. Frankly, I think the crazy comes and goes in cycles.” She pursed her lips and cocked a head. She flicked her soft eyes sideways to Bilbo, confessing a secret. “You will have to love Thorin hard enough to get beyond that thick skull. When you do, there is nothing he won't do to keep you there. That’s as much a curse as a blessing sometimes.”  

“I’m not sure what he wants.”  The steady sweep sweep of the brush accented her words. “Bagginses are more than a little stubborn.” He could hear the smile in her voice, bringing out his own. “I can wait. Virginia isn’t going anywhere.”

Thorin dried his hands, needing some time with Bilbo to clear the air. Not seeing the point of being subtle, he shoved the kitchen door into the wall behind hit.  The wood bounded back to crack into the space. Once, twice, then stillness.  Bee jumped at the sound, whirling around with her hand on her chest.

Dis took one look at him, then planted her hands on her hips with a snarl of frustration. “Dumbass, what did you say to Gandalf now?”

The grating lash of her voice was like niggling splinters. He didn’t acknowledge her as he walked behind the bar.  Reaching in the small under cooler for a beer, he counted off his choices on how to handle his sister.  Thorin wasn’t stupid, he needed her to get her boys in line and keep them there because he had failed famously. However, he wouldn’t concede easy.

Thorin leaned forward across the wood, elbows on the gleaming top. He asked with a mild tone. "Where do you get off being such a bossy bitch?"

Dis looked him dead in the eyes. "I was born a bossy bitch, so you can either roll with it or get rolled over.”

Bee snickered behind her hand, yet well out of the way of the siblings if they cared to take a swing at each other.  Knowing his sister, she wasn’t above it.  There was at least one knife somewhere on her person at all times. Looking over the lumpy sweater for dragging pockets, he concluded that Dis would have to at least reach for it and give him warning.

“Still setting terms, are you?” He growled without teeth.  Thorin was getting better about where he parked his anger.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.  Dis walked out of the room without another word, taking the exit. Thorin had wanted to speak further, find out what she planned for later.  She was gone before he could formulate something that didn’t sound like snark. The wind changed around him, and a blur appeared in his peripheral.

“Are you okay?” she asked, taking in the more-pronounced circles under his eyes. Her hand left the broom to trace a line along his brow.

“Sure. Why?” he asked, his voice even grittier than usual.

“You look upset, is all,” she said with a shrug. “What are you going to do?”

“Not sure. Give it a few days and maybe have Dis call Gandalf.” He looked right in her eyes and stroked his fingers through the side of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “A few things on my mind at the present, though.”

The concern melted away faster than snow on a hot afternoon. Innuendos were not his strong suit, however that hit the nail on the head. There are smoldering looks that a woman like Bee can throw and hers were definitely getting heated. The memory of last night had been with him all day, skirting the edges of his consciousness. He fucking loved waking up with her, rolling over and seeing her sleep soft expression.  It was the sight Thorin wanted every morning, not just this one. 

“Either you have me or not at all, Bilbo. Either you love me or not at all. Either I am all yours or I’m nobody’s. I’ll have _no_ half-measures with you.”  

They were harsh words that fell between them, more callous than his vulnerability would allow. And Thorin felt so exposed with her, every part of his soul peeled open into view. He just…he needed her to be sure. Her hands shook a little as they tangled themselves in his beard, digging her fingers into the points of his jaw.  He wanted this, he wanted her. Forever and ever more. But his trust was a fragile thing, more delicate than his grandmother’s glass figurines. The broken bits of her interlocked with the rougher edges of him to form a complete picture of happiness. If she could let them have it.

“I want all of you, Thorin.  Not just today or tomorrow, but always.” Thorin saw Bee's throat flutter as she swallowed. Her liquid brown eyes searched his before Bee leaned closer. “It isn’t just me. There’s Frodo too. He’s a part of my life, the saner part.  He will probably, definitely need therapy after all this.  If you want me, you _will_ take him too.”

He was already feeling that flush of a new relationship, where all Thorin wanted to do was hole himself up with that person, discovering everything about them both emotionally and physically, leaving his friends to send out search parties while he was reveling in newfound bliss and cumming all over everything. He had done that already last fall, selfishly unable to share Bee with anyone after watching his best friend have a sex with her. But Frodo was different, had been her child before they had met.  That bond was something that he couldn’t touch and would never try.

“I’m not scared of kids, Bee. I’m not scared of having more.” Thorin told her, watching large eyes widen further. “Frodo doesn’t know me and it will take time. But I’m willing if you are.”

He realized he was wasting the opportunity to touch. Slowly he reached up and ran his hand up her face. It was the same that haunted his dreams in the months after she left. Bee closed her eyes, her mouth going slack as his hands made the trek south. He traced the muscles of her neck, his thumb brushing the pulse point under the skin.  The jump and beat of the rushing blood called to him as well.  Thorin didn’t stop at her shoulder but kept going until he cupped her breast through the long sleeve tshirt, stroking the nipple to hardness.

Such suckable nipples, too. Her tits were heavy in hand, tripping moans from her as he squeezed. Even now, Thorin knew she’d let him put his tongue all over her if he wanted to. She’d spread her legs and offer herself up to him like a godsdamn sacrifice. Her eyes opened to blown wide pupils, almost black with a slight brown ring.  A long pink tongue that felt so good against his cock, flicked out to wet her lips.

There was no way he could wait, not with his dick resembling a lead pipe in his jockeys. Looking around quickly, no one was in the clubhouse right now. Everyone was at work at the Mine, Ironworks or a Thror. 

Part of Thorin was afraid she might rethink a quickie in the time it took to go wherever he wanted to take her. Their situation wasn’t on that solid ground yet. Spotting the unisex bathroom to the right of the bar, he guided her quickly. Hustling her into the smaller space and slamming the door guaranteed she wasn’t leaving until he got what he wanted. Bilbo obviously liked the idea of it here. In the bathroom. Standing up. Against the wall or over the sink.  His cock throbbed as a dull ache settled into his balls.

Grabbing her thighs, he lifted her quickly to the counter full of hammered metal sinks to settle between her spread legs.  There was a squealing giggle but she didn’t push away.  Not Bilbo, she reached out with both hands to twine her fingers into his hair and yank him forward. Their lips met, aligning their bodies together. Shorter on her feet, the sink’s height gave him perfect access.

Thorin wanted, so he took.  If she had said no or thought it, that would have been a different story. Dirty bathrooms weren’t the lovey dewy nests that most women wanted. But then most wouldn’t allow dry humping either. His hard cock bumped and scraped against the materialled crease between her legs, pushing needy gasps from her. The friction of her leg against his hard dick with two layers of denim between them warmed quickly. Thorin’s balls were tight already, aching to let go of the back log of lava hot cum. Rubbing off on Bilbo felt amazing, and he loved that her sweet mouth was a prisoner. She would take and she would give, and then beg in that same husky voice that vibrated with need.  _For him_. It was the first time he was in control since this shit storm began.

“Now, Thorin.” she said, her voice shaky.

She hopped off the Formica, her hands flying to her jeans and toeing off her shoes at the same time. He kissed her again, unable to stay away. The pillowy skin of her thighs drew him, siren like. But then Thorin reminded her touch by touch. His teeth tugging her bottom lip as he lifted her back to the cold sink. His rough callouses dragging against all her sensitive softness. His hard erection grinding so deliciously into her lower belly that she wrapped her legs around his hips to ride him too.

She was so beautiful this way, uninhibited and free. A part of something he had only glimpsed once in his life, a way of feeling that he had forgotten.

“Here?” he rasped, boxing her up against the mirror. The contact chased away his thoughts, especially as he pushed his erection between her legs and rubbed the muffled organ against her clit, the metal studs tracing her in the confined space.

“Yes.” Bilbo told him, trying to lock her legs around him. Thorin pulled back, grabbed the hem of Bee's shirt and pulled it over her head.

Naked on the sink, Bilbo held on to Thorin’s shoulders as he pushed his fingers between her thighs, right where she was wet and hungry and almost desperate to have him. Those sweet tits jiggled, stuffed into a too small bra that begged to be nipped. They bowed into cushioned mounds above the white lace that cut red lines into the pale flesh.  Later, he would trace those marks with his tongue but that was later.  

“Aw, feel that fucking pussy,” he rasped, his face right up against hers. He kissed her hard, his tongue mimicking the act they were barreling toward, his fingers circling and stroking and pushing inside her one at a time.

 “Oh, God,” she whispered, gasping for a breath.

“So ready for me.”

“Yes,” she said, rocking against his hand, faster, harder.

She grasped his neck and hauled his mouth to hers. Their teeth knocked, but he didn’t care. Thorin just knew he might die if he didn’t touch her everywhere he could and penetrating her every way he could. His tongue filled her mouth and his fingers filled the wet place between her legs, and the hard heel of his hand rubbed against her again and again where she was most sensitive and most desperate and suddenly about to come apart in his arms.

Bee nearly screamed into Thorin’s mouth and he grasped the side of her face.  Strong fingers dug into his shoulders, leveraging up her body to ride his thrusting fingers. He held her through the aftershocks, almost praising her in the gentleness of the touch.

“Fuck, yeah,” he rasped, easing his hand from between her legs.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, and, looking her right in the eye, he slowly licked at the wetness on his skin. Bilbo’s mouth dropped open as she watched him savor what he’d just brought out of her. Before he was finished, she grasped his wrist and licked the back of his middle finger.

Thorins eyes flared. “Jesus Christ, Bee, I need in you,” he said, tugging his hand free so he could unbutton his jeans.

He shoved the denim and a pair of boxers down over his hips until they were hanging on his thighs, and then his fist circled his erection and stroked it hard, once, twice. Bilbo watched hungrily.

“Where do you want it?” he said, stepping in close again, the hanging denim heavy against her legs, his moving hand bumping his knuckles and the head of his erection against her belly.

“In my pussy." she whispered. Bilbo fingered the piercings as Thorn rolled his hips, putting his weight in his knees. “You can have my ass later.”

He shuddered out a breath. “Are we negotiating? . .” He shook his head along with a crooked grin.

“Always," she said, tugging his balls. 

Mahal in his forge.  The woman burned him up so fast, he was beyond rationality.  The twist of her fingers on his nuts heated his blood, making him crave the pain. She was his match, his everything.  Thorin had known at Devil’s Night and he knew it now.  He didn’t care anymore that she had sucked and fucked Dwalin too. Thorin only cared that she belonged to him now.

Stepping out of his boots and the rest of his clothes, he stood gloriously naked in front of her. Thorin retrieved something from the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. And then he ripped open the little square wrapper and placed the rubber against his tip. As he rolled it on, he watched her watching him. That tongue whipped out to wet her lips, chaffed raw by his beard. The pull of his barbells tingled down to his balls as Thorin shifted the condom more snuggly on his cock. She looked down again just as he sank deep and his sack rocked against her butt cheeks.

He planted his hand against her lower belly and stroked his thumb over her clit. Fast and firm. All the while his thumb teased the nub at the top of her slit. And then he grabbed her ass in his hands, leaned over her, and lifted her up into his strokes so that his pubic bone ground into her clit on every mind-blowing thrust. She watched them fuck, watched his cock disappear into and out of her body.  The slick of her desire coated the condom.

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open on a moan. “It’s so fucking hot,” Bilbo whispered, her gaze flashing back to his.

"That’s right,” he growled, leaning in again to claim her mouth. His thumb continued to strum at her clit until she felt entirely overwhelmed by him—his mouth stealing her breath, his body pressing her down, his cock deep inside her.

“You coming all over my cock would be even hotter,” he said once he released her lips.

His hips moved faster, his thrusts deeper, more pointed, rocking her whole body. He pulled in his abs, slowing down the pace so that Bee could get a good eye full of his dick sliding in and out of her pussy.  She wanted it hot, he could tell as she kept looked down between them. The condom glistened with her slick, sealing tighter against his flesh.

Thorin loved to talk in bed, the dirtier the better. It was a gauge to let him know how the action was flowing, winding him up at the same time. He didn’t care who heard them, but Bee would.  “Come on me, Bee,” he rasped against her mouth. “Fucking let me feel it.”

A jumble of sounds that didn’t follow any distinct language fell from her lips in different pitches and gasps. Bilbo dug her fingers into his hair, panting open mouthed.  Her skin flushed as the cords in her neck strained from her pleasure. 

“Answer me. Use your words.”

“Don’t stop,” she begged, on the verge of falling into bliss. Even with the condom, he could feel the fluttering along his pistoning root. “Don’t stop, please don't..."

Her cry sounded tortured to him, but then Thorin was shouting and straining against her body. Her lips found him again, hands and feet locked them together. The wet fist of her cunt screwed him tighter and tighter. Pleasure and pain, something that should be polar opposites swirled around him like a steel tornado. As he moved faster, they couldn’t hold the kiss.  Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers and their hair made a curtain around their faces, his midnight, her’s honey.

Thorin groaned Bilbo’s name, grasped her face in both hands, and held her tight as he buried himself deep and splintered into a thousand pieces. The orgasm was so intense, Thorin saw stars and his vision went splotchy. His lungs came back online, hacking his breath in deep bursts.

“Christ, Bee” he ground out. He kissed her deeply—her mouth, her lips, her neck, and back to her mouth again.

Thorin took her weight, lifting her in one go to sit astride him while he sat on a bench. His strength failed, feeling his arms flop uselessly until his hands sunk into her buttocks.  Bee nuzzled into his neck and beard, trying to get her breath.  Her heartbeat galloped in pace with his own, the thump thump in his ears sounding like cannons.  He wasn’t twenty anymore. If he wanted to live out his days with Bee, Thorin needed to take more care with himself in the future.  More exercise, less booze.

Bilbo kissed up his neck, his body still screwed into hers. “Oh that was just lovely. I might be getting a kink in my hip though.”

Coming out of her mouth, it sounded dirty. Nicely dirty.

Thorin chuckled. “Why don’t we go upstairs to one of the flop rooms and work out those.. _kinks_?”

She pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing his breath away.  Desire warmed him, made Thorin itch to get her upstairs. He let go of her lips with stinging regrets, however needs must.  Scooting her backwards on his knees, he disposed of the condom neatly.  His cock was stirring again already, just at the thought of having Bilbo.  Ideas of getting her in the shower, in the hallway imaged into his mind. His burglar giggled giving him another kiss before standing up to dismount him.  The thick smell of hot sex hung in the air like a dense fog.

Someone banged on the bathroom door. “Thorin! Thorin! Now that you are finished fucking, we need to talk about your nephew. The little bastard shoved me out of the Ironworks!”

“Dain, get the fuck away from that door!” Thorin scrubbed his face, getting a whiff of Bilbo on his fingers.

Damnit!  He was supposed to be working his way upstairs for a nooner that could become an afternooner!  No, Dain needed dealing with, and coddling.  Looking at Bilbo, his anger went up another notch when he saw her embarrassment as she dressed.

“Be right there, asshole!”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will write better.. I will post more.. Just 2 of my new years resolutions.


	34. Snippet 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MUCH LOVE TO THE GINGERPIE !!
> 
> February 23, 7 pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> redo...  
> First part is Thorin's POV and the Second is Sigrid's with Figrid smut.

 

 

Thorin slapped Bee on the rump to get her moving.  He had a Jacuzzi tub in his bedroom that he was dying to try out with his burglar.  The squeal and pounding of feet on hardwood made him grin.  Bilbo took off in the general direction of the family wing, throwing her coat off as she went.  Laughing, Thorin picked it up to toss over the bar chair as he took a seat.

Shaking his head, his life had changed for the better in some things and sucking in others. He was the master of self-control. Mature. Self-disciplined. Then why did he feel like he was two seconds from coming in his pants when Bilbo licked her lips?

Unlacing his boots, he grimaced in distaste at the mess he made on the floor. Caked mud dotted the golden wood all the way from the door in perfect symmetrical prints.  Dis would have his ass in a sling along with Dori.  Cleaning was never his strong suit, yet he hated dust with a particular viciousness. Up until last fall, he had a cleaning service comprised of two ladies from Dale that came twice a week.  Unfortunately, that was the first thing to go.  He couldn’t have non Durin’s folk roaming his house unescorted.  Dis and Dori did most of the harder stuff, but making a mess brought on the screaming.

“Yeah. I see that on the floor. Don’t even think about chasing after Bilbo until it’s clean.”

Thorin cringed at the free floating tone as he placed his boots by the door.  Dis stood in the opposite entry way that led from the hallway with a box in her arms.  It wasn’t heavy, her arms were loose rather than straining.  Feeling his tail tuck between his legs, Thorin slinked to the pantry for the broom and dustpan.  The faster he did this the faster he could get another round with Bilbo. 

It was quick work with only a few smears that a good mopping would remove.  Thorin could feel his sister’s gaze on his back while he cleaned. He cracked a smile, imaging Dis like a medieval torturer with a flail and whip in each hand. He stole a glance to see if she was still glaring only to find her bent over to root around on the floor.  She had taken the top off the box she had been carrying, sorting the contents on the coffee table and couch. There were already piles of what looked like clothes with two other empty boxes on the floor.

“Did you get rid of Dain?” She asked breaking down one pile into two more.

Baby clothes, probably Fili’s and Kili’s from when they were babies. Fili’s kid’s gender wouldn’t be known for a while yet but it looked like Dis was getting ready just the same.  There were blankets, thick burp cloths and bibs in piles close to Thorin in the kitchen.

“He said he came by to look over the production schedule for last year.” Thorin snorted. “Like he didn’t already have it.  He gets updated every month on the previous numbers. I’m getting tired of this looking over my shoulder shit.”

“We both knew that Dain’s a suspicious idiot.  You wanted to include him to help them out. Now, you get to deal with his greedy nature.” Dis picked up an empty box to the blankets.

Thorin took the broom back to the pantry after dumping the mud.  He really hated the idea of Dis being correct in this situation but Dain was unnecessarily greedy.  Thorin had started this agreement to help the Iron Hills club, give the charter a more stable income instead of running protection details for local transport companies.  There had been other less than legal enterprises they engaged in that Thorin had turned a blind eye. Dain had been warned at the onset not to tangle the Iron Hills’ riskier ventures into Erebor’s interests.

“Do you really think Sigrid wants those old things?”

The subject change wasn’t subtle, but then, neither was Thorin when there was available pussy and a soft bed close by. Talking about Dain didn’t help his libido in the slightest. Bilbo had cringed in the bathroom until Thorin came back for her. She insisted they go home where the bedroom had locked doors rather than take one of the upstairs rooms. It worked for him in the end once he thought it through. Sometimes the flop rooms weren’t all that clean, especially if Dwalin talked a cutie into working the pain out of some of his _muscles_.

The subject of Fili wasn’t to be broached with Dis, whether or not the nephew had kicked Dain out of the foundry. Thorin walked to the fridge, sticking his head in for a beer. Dis wouldn’t allow him to talk shit about her boys anymore. It was part of the peace he had agreed too so that his family would walk Frerin and Thrain down the Silent Street together.  Dis already knew what Fili had done. That dog could lay on the rug all it wanted.

Oakenshield spotted some Gouda cheese and BBQ Brie with blueberries on the shelf that hadn’t been around this morning.  Snagging the Brie, he took a sleeve of crackers out from the overhead cabinet and a spreading knife.  Perfect snack food for a post sex snuggle. Warm soft curves slicked down with sweat and hopefully other fluids pressing against his body.  Thorin had to shake himself before he started moaning.

“The blankets are in good condition. Plus, some were made by Mom.” She stroked one lovely patchwork quilt in different colors of blue. “I thought she would appreciate the history. We will need to have a baby shower here for her in the summer. Also a wedding shower at some point.”

He knew the blanket was one of his Mother’s creations, just by seeing the geometric blues. She had been a quilting artist with material, even scraps.  Nothing was wasted when they were children; she would use their old clothes to make blankets for local families in need.  Their mom was the one who showed Thorin, Frerin and Dis of how rewarding it was to give back to those who have less.

“I imagine she will want to buy knew things for the next Durinson.” Thorin missed the funny look on his sister’s face. “Honestly, if women were so careless to become pregnant at such a time as this, let women sort it out. Don’t drag me into it.”

"You wouldn't say that crap if the child was yours." Dis asked, a fist resting against a curvy hip.

"If the Bowman girl was knocked up with my kid, your son would have found a way to kill me painfully and most inconveniently." Thorin looked over his shoulder, a sinister smirk playing on his face. 

"No argument there."

He nodded once, the slightest curve of a smile tugging on one corner of his lips, before turning towards his bedroom and his willing woman.

***88***

Sigrid stared at the door, tucking her feet underneath a blanket as she nestled into the couch.  It was a portal, a rectangular construction of wood and glass separating her from the rest of the world. A barrier for protection of herself and their child. Night sparkled beyond the windows, twinkling with millions of stars that were brighter than the any stone in Erebor.  It was cold night too, just like the fiery gems. If she put her hands on the wood and glass, the cold temperature would nip at the skin. Winter held on to New Hampshire until May, sometimes June.

Normally, the confinement didn’t bother her. Well, not too much.  It was necessary considering the unreasonable oddity of Bolg’s attraction.  She didn’t leave Erebor, not for any reason without at least two of Durin’s folk.  It had to be people Fili knew too and he had to know she was leaving ahead of time. None of the other MCs took a rotation to guard the courtyard.  Sigrid understood the why of it but sometimes it chaffed just a little.

Picking up her tablet, she started scrolling through things to see in Seattle, Washington. The black watch flannel pajamas warmed her better than the fireplace in the corner. Getting up, she tossed another log on the fire, taking note that she would need to clean the ashes out tomorrow. The Northwest climate was milder than Dale due to its proximity to the ocean, probably less snow than she and Fili were used to having.  Many people lived on the water in houseboats from what she could see. Sigrid knew many people lived out on the Long Lake here around Lake Town in houses built on stilts. Sitting back on the couch, she rubbed her small bump that pushed its way out from her hipbones. Maybe, houseboats wouldn’t work with a toddler. 

Fili, so far, had two phone interviews with a shipping company there, each one more promising than the last. There was a position for an engineering specialist to help with steel retro fits on large ships. He had mentioned flying out there for an in person interview. If Fili got the job, of course, Sigrid knew she would move with him to Seattle. Her heart would ache a little at leaving New Hampshire, yet she would miss her love so much more.

Nori sat outside tonight, waiting for Fili to return. She could see his silhouette in the far right window, rocking back and forth. He sat on their porch but watched the whole square of houses. From what little she knew, there had been a dust up earlier at the Ironworks between her love and Dain.  Fili had stomped into the house in a viciously snarling mood. He grabbed his axes and his knives, saying he was going a raid with Dwalin to Forest gate. A kiss and a hug and he was raging out the door.  Nori happened along later to give the news about Dain.

Tauriel had been out of the house at the time and no arguments from Sigrid would get Fili to wait for her return.  She knew Fili wanted to prove himself capable, she just wished he would have Tauriel around when he did it. Now, she waited and she worried. It was hard trying to fill the time with looking at a city that before last week, she had no interest in visiting, much less living.

Dinner tonight had been lonelier than Sigrid liked. Taking a sip of tea, she noted the time again on the tablet. Tauriel was at Nileth’s, though she had asked Sigrid if she wanted to come. The refusal had been taken with grace, making her feel worse. Guilt ate at her stomach, upsetting the tea she had just drank. Nori sitting in the cold on the porch rather than being at home with his woman. Sigrid just couldn’t be cheerful when her mood wasn’t and it would have made for a disastrous evening for everyone there. She wasn’t one of those Fake It Til You Make It types.

The cousins were getting closer, finding common ground on many subjects. Nileth had a different perspective on tactics and strategy for the next targets than Tauriel, stirring up some very interesting conversation. Sigrid couldn’t offer any points of view at these meetings, pushing her more into the background. She appreciated their offer of inclusion but her ignorance put her out of sorts. This wasn’t a fifties comedy and she damn sure wasn’t June Cleaver.  Sigrid just needed something practical to bring to the table.

Draining her cup, Sigrid switch it with her cellphone to call Oin. Since Mrs. Gloin’s death, she had tried to help out as much as she could but seeing the big man wither was very hard to bear.  It angered Sigrid that Gloin refused to call his son to tell the boy of his mother’s death. Gimli had been friends with her family growing up, like another brother. Bain wouldn’t have listened to anyone, calling his friend to let Gimli know and offer his sympathy. Fili was of the same mindset but he respected Gloin too much not to abide by his cousin’s wishes. 

“Yes, ma’am.”   

“Hi, Oin. I was just checking in.” Sigrid told him quietly.

There was a noticeable crinkling in the background, telling her that he was doing paperwork when she called.  He was a hard worker like the rest, jumping in when he was needed. As the resident medic, Oin patched up the wounded in the Ironworks, Mine and at the Clubhouse.  It was no wonder he and Tauriel were getting very close of late.

“He ate some. Not much.” There was a long exhale on his end. “If something doesn’t change, I am going to call Gimli myself.”

Sigrid tucked her feet deeper into the blanket, switching the cell to another ear. “When Gimli finds out, he’ll come home.  And be very angry that people waited so long.”

It was a mild understatement.  Gimli would be enraged. Sigrid flinched at how mad he would be.  Outside, Nori took to his feet, pacing in front of the windows.  She craned her neck a little to see what had his attention. Oin’s voice brought her back to the conversation. 

“I just got a text from Bofur.  The boys are on the way back. Fili is fine. Bifur took a cut to the leg.”  Sigrid let out a breath she didn’t realize that she was holding. 

Nori walked off the porch, his footsteps nonexistent through the walls. Sigrid craned her neck, stretching her body tall.  The blackness washed into gray at the edge of the perimeter lights.  A shadow threw itself upon the window, moving at a slow rate. She knew without a doubt it was her love.

“Fili’s home. I got to go. Please, please consider calling Gimli.” Sigrid entreated before ending the call.

She tossed the cell on the couch before scuffling around the furniture to head to the door.  He stood with his back to her, still talking to Nori at the bottom of the stairs.  The hairy MacDurin’s attention flickered to her through the glass before he turned and left.  She had no idea of what was said, though Nori looked a little grim.

Fili smiled at her for a moment on the other side of the door, unslinging the axes from his shoulder. A faint bruise and split lip marred his handsome face but she cared so very little. His strong heart shone brighter, not for the burdens he carried, but that he had come out of this raid in one piece.  Her returning hero, home from the battle. Hers, all hers. The snow wavered off his coat in a swirl of white as he pushed open the door and strode into the room. Sigrid rushed into his waiting arms.

“I should go out with Dwalin more often if I have so lovely a female jumping me when I get home.” He joked as she ran her hands over his body, taking inventory.

Satisfied, Sigrid leaned in for a proper greeting that always tasted like home. She needed to feel his unshakable strength, needed that reassurance that he wouldn’t slip between her fingers like everything else. Like everyone else.  Claiming, devouring, penetrating, there was something so soothing in the roughness of his kiss. Sigrid couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think or move, and she didn’t care one bit. Because Sigrid felt like she hadn’t had a deep breath since the last time their lips had met.

When her palm came to rest on his hip just over his belt loops, he shivered. When he softened their kiss, she let go of her herself into his hands, waiting to find out what he’d do next. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, their foreheads tipped together.  She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that—as if seeing past flesh and bones to the woman who had been trapped inside for so long. Sigrid knew that she could never fall with him next to her. If she tripped, he would catch her.  If she lost her balance, he would find it. 

He palmed the back of her head and began kissing a path down her jaw and onto her neck. When his tongue touched her collarbone, chills rose up on her chest.  Sigrid want him to fill her with the fire that raged underneath his golden skin, which burned behind his storm tossed eyes. The need to have him tear her apart, bit-by-bit rose like a starburst at his touch. Maybe it’s exactly what she wanted at this moment.

Sigrid pulled his hair hard enough to hurt, feeling his sigh on her skin. Fili answered her violent eroticism by gripping her ass, digging his fingers into pliant flesh until he supported her entire weight. It was easy to ignore the bite of pain where his grip was a little too rough. Sometimes a little rough went a long way. She locked her legs around his waist, the sting at her backside freshly exciting. They bumpered down the hall, spinning from one wall to the next. She couldn’t let go of his lips until they crossed the threshold into the bedroom. Fili tossed her on the mattress, bouncing a laugh out of her.  It felt so good to giggle and laugh when lately life had been so painful.

Sigrid tore at his pants at the same time that he ripped her shirt, shredding the cotton into scraps. The tops of her heavy breasts felt the chilled air for only a second before they were covered with the heat of his mouth. He pushed them up, freeing them from the lacy bra to reveal peaked nipples. A warm wet tongue grazed each tip, before he drew one into his mouth to suck hungrily, greedily.

Fili released her sensitive nipples just when Sigrid started to thrash, sitting up on his knees. I could come from this alone, Sigrid thought. Shit, I’m close to it already. It was so freeing to be naked, to be his. With that penetrating stare trained on her writhing flesh, he hooked his fingers into his jeans and slowly, torturously eased them down. She leaned back on elbows and enjoyed the impromptu strip show.

Getting off the bed, he did this shimmy thing with his hips to get his pants down that did interesting things to the bulge in his boxer briefs. The Duluth Buck Nakeds were next, pealed down in haste. A sharp V flowed into the hard root of him, smattered with fine, golden hair. His eyebrow lifted, and he gave her a slow up-and-down look that set her body on fire.

Fili’s dick was hard enough that it was shiny and the veins stood out.  He didn’t tug the flesh, just squeezed it gently and slowly. One plump vein wrapped up the side and then branched midway.  The head got darker with each flex, its ridge standing in sharp relief.   The ensuite nightlight accented the bedroom, throwing an ambient glow to the rest of room.  The silver knobs in his groin dimmed noticeably in the low light, making his cock look like a spiked eggplant.

Her body was warm and soft and eager at the beautiful sight. Sigrid stretched her limbs and smiled, a soft sigh escaping her upturned lips. He crawled over her body, wearing that devilish smirk that made her weak in the knees _. If she wasn't already on her back._ She feigned fright and tried to escape his approach, but he swiftly caught her thigh and pulled her to him.

“You can’t run away from me,” he smiled lazily.

Sigrid looked into eyes the shade of Caribbean blue and lifted a hand to play in his blond curls. He shivered under her touch.

“Why would I want to?”

“Never,” he breathed roughly, dipping his head so that lips brushed against hers.

She quivered at the feeling of his short scuff tickling her face. While Sigrid should be afraid at his dark tone, like any rational thinking woman would be, it only encouraged her body to wrap tighter around his begging for more. He smelled of smoke, iron and something charred but he was alive. He was in her arms.

“Never,” she promised, meaning the word more than the promise of her next heartbeat. Sigrid moaned into his mouth as his tongue tasted hers.

He parted Sigrid’s thighs gently with a push of his knee and settled between her legs. She felt him against her center, throbbing, growing harder and longer still. It pushed at her entrance without him even flexing his hips. Fili purred like a deadly lion he resembled. Teeth grazed the nape of her nape, jawline, and her neck.

“Never,” she repeat on a breathless sob.

Quickly, Fili sat upright, taking her with him. She lifted just enough to place him at her entrance, not wanting to lose the connection of his tongue and teeth on her nipples.  The tip of him eased into her body, the burning, aching sensation a balm to her trembling flesh. Sigrid slowly slid onto his length, fitting around him like a glove. She wanted to move—wanted to feel him as deep as her body will take him…as deep as he can go—but he cradled her instead, gripping her back, hips, while she clutched his chiseled shoulders.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he gritted, his lips on Sigrid’s ear.

Sigrid clung to him, attempting to breathe through her muffled cries. Twisting upon her impalement, time had no meaning. The bolts of his Jacob’s ladder corkscrewed her body in a slow motion whirlpool of desire.

 “Yes, that’s it,” he groaned. “Hold me. Feel me. I want to live and die deep inside you.” 

There was no shyness between them—only loud, encouraging gasps. His chest hair was ticklish against her hands but was thrilling, too. Masculine and coarse. His palms were calloused against her breasts, and the sensation made her groan and whimper and writhe against him, especially as his fingers plucked and twisted at her nipples.  She buried her face in his neck, smelling the smoke and sweat of where he had been.

They made love and it was like nothing she had ever known. Her brain could barely keep up with her body, and part of her hardly believed this was real.  The orgasm was shattering, the most powerful thing she’d ever felt.  It always was with Fili. Love made it better, stronger. 

Afterward, exhausted and happy, the pair collapsed tangled up on the sheets. Sigrid held him close, afraid that something would come and steal her happiness. Hold on, she thought, hold on and never let him go…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Ginger if you lived closer, I would be on your doorstep with a cobbler and appropriate wine! Thank you soo much..
> 
> I have decided to do two snippet chapters to kind of catch all the threads of this story up. The crap is getting real and all the players need to be addressed before the fun starts. The next snippet chapter is Kili with a side order of Bolg.. Yes.. he is just nasty.
> 
> Much love to all who keep up with my crazy.. :o)


	35. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG ANOTHER UPDATE...
> 
> February 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first snippet is Bolg's POV.. Lots and Lots of heavy warnings because he is just nasty... The second is Kili in Paris.

0750 Eastern Standard Time

 

The weak sun rose in the distance to a frozen dawn, pearling the frosted grass.  A sun with teeth his father liked to say when Azog felt particularly jovial. Some saying or other that had stuck with the crazy fucker since he had left the Balkans. Bolg remembered other things of his father’s life, little cruelties that became greater as he grew. There is a cruelty that lurks in some men’s souls which is only released when they have others in their power. They revel in the pain that they see they have caused, savoring it like the sweetest morsel. It's a heady feeling that takes a life of its own, and requires constant feeding.

That same craving fed the son now. Thick Blackhawk boots carried him through the compound, the heavy soles stomping apart frozen slush puddles and crushing through the icy ripples of tire treads. Bolg watched the guards scamper away, darting glances at his marbled skin. These Orcs were weaker than the sun that illuminated the morning if they couldn’t stomach his burns. A well placed grin pushed them along a little faster. He took joy in intimidating those lesser men, reducing them to cowering little boys. 

His reflection in a truck’s windshield showed an inhuman thing. The skin at his forehead was black in furrows along the bleached white of his shaved pate where he had clawed at it in pain. Bolg’s head swiveled to get a better look at the destruction, vaguely remembering the agony now. The flesh was dull, the nerves burned away by the chemicals in the white smoke. His left eye was milky clear, completely blind now when the contaminated water had washed into it. Blooded skin pockmarked the lower end of his jaw to merge with the torn remains of his lips.

Bolg believed he may have been beautiful once, before the fire ate his face and shit it out. And he still could be now, even with the disfigurement. Surgery was an option to tone it down, but Bolg didn’t want it. His face reflected his nature, something passed down from his father. He _relished_ the fear, the disgust. Bolg wanted the people he met to grimace and avoid eye contact. He _delighted_ in making the women in Caras Galadhon clutch their purses to scurry to the opposite side of the street when he approached.   

He pulled out his cell to open out the attachment he had received.  Bolg’s smile was cringingly chilling as he stared at the ultrasound pic.  A small kernel lay in the coned V of the sonogram, a worm no larger than two fingers together.  A child grew in Sigrid’s belly, planted there by the Durinson bastard.  Bolg knew it was hers based upon the message on the body of the email. He wanted to shout with happiness.

It was a gift, a wonderous present just for him.  The sonogram proved his pet would be a good breeder but also that this child was of Durinson blood. An heir to be molded and taught if Smaug was repelled from his prize.  An heir could step up and take control, a male who would give to Bolg whatever he wished.  If it was a daughter, well, his pet would learn to share.  A daughter would bare his young too. A whole generation of mingled blood to rule after he was dead.

Smaug had promised him that soon, yes always soon, they would march on the Mountain.  The waiting was a killer. Cracking his neck as he walked his rounds, it was another dull day. He did not want to wait for his father nor the Dragon to let him off the leash. Bolg considered finding a runt or some meat, knowing it would help to burn off a little of his energy. The anticipation of his pet was a constant itch he couldn’t scratch, always just out of reach.

Mt. Gundabad was falling by degrees, lethargy and exhaustion riding them all.  The guards dragged through their duties, the same few doing all the real work. Scrap piles heaped near the burned out vehicles. The bomb blasts imprinted the walls, clearing away the dead grass.  The flaming cunt had chosen good targets, using each to the maximum effect.

Wild barking split the solace of the coming day. Bolg headed in that direction, wondering what might have disturbed the remaining Wargs.  The breeding program had almost been destroyed.  Some of the active dogs had been killed chasing Tauriel into the mined forest. Others had been killed in one of the explosions. A few of the pregnant bitches had miscarried in the attack, stressed by the loud explosions.  Bolg almost felt sorry for the Dragon and all he had lost in last weeks. _Almost._

One or two of the handlers were allowing their dogs to tear into a carcass of some dead animals.  The massive beasts paced their fence while others attempted to dig under or climb over the wire.  The ones gnawing on the dead corpses were the leaders of the pack, larger than the rest.  The selective genetics had produced animals that stood at waist height to a full grown man.  If their mates had gotten a hold of Tauriel, the large jagged teeth would have killed her in seconds.

_Oh well. Another time._

Once the noise was investigated, Bolg headed to the command center to check the incoming communications. It was one of the few buildings that had escaped Tauriel’s attack. The landscape was just as depressing, pitted and cratered from the explosions. The main bunker was underground, a safe haven if there had been a brute force attack rather than a slip of girl.  The dead were piling up, no matter the ones they pulled from other operations.  The red headed twat with that fucking Bear in Carrock was seriously cutting into their manpower. After this latest gamble at Forestgate, his father was going to be livid when he and Smaug returned. Another squad of Spiders gone. 

They were expected back tonight from pulling the last of Smaug’s things from the Silvertine. Bolg growled to himself as he walked, annoyed that the Dragon was such a whore for his trinkets.  The Durinsons were getting brave and ballsy. Blowing up buildings in Dale and Carrock was having zero effect on Erebor. He longed to drive up to the Mountain and kill them all. Then fuck his pet all the way home.  Yes, something like that.

The heavy steel door was just as cold as the morning when he pushed it opened. Orcs worked at different stations, on land lines or typing in computers.  Line after line of green text sped across the monitor screens, to be read and acknowledged.  Orders from other commanders in the field, all tied together by a hive computer bank.  He had heard Smaug talking once that there were anchor points for the network all over the United States and the world.  Paris, Baltimore, London, Jerusalem and Boulder, Colorado were just some of these points.

A rippling laughter, utterly female, rose above the click and clatter of the machines.  A few of the men’s expressions changed, their eyes looking to the ceiling in a mental projection to be there. A pair of Spanish women that had been shipped over as tribute from a new connection in Andorra.  Smoky eyed, almost luminous in the dark. One or two of the Orcs had been allowed the right to use the newbies by Azog who himself still preferred his African slave.

The older female had proved be quite a pain slut, enjoying a good beating to get wet.  He brightened at that thought, imagining her dusky breasts heavy and full. A wet snatch was better than a dry asshole any day. Bolg shook his sword belt, ignoring the shudders from the men who watched him with fearful expressions. Some of them had been on the receiving end of his foul mood lately. The skin on his face constricting into a grotesque smile, he strode through the room already aroused at the prospect of a little slapping and fucking. Bolg chuckled to himself as he walked, pressure building in his abdomen from his stiffening cock. A warm woman and a battle to come. To be alive in such a place was a wondrous thing.

Several women were kept together, available to the upper cadre of Orcs. Bolg tripped forward, feet tangling in his haste as he stumbled up the stairs. The landing opened into a wide area with only four doors. A former Spider promoted to Orc jumped to his feet from where he had been sitting, the web tattoo covering both cheeks. At the end of his shift, he would be allowed to pick a twat for his fun since he had the long duty to make sure they didn’t escape.  The outside windows of the room were bared, and the only door guarded twenty four hours a day. Bolg didn’t like his pussy trying to run away unless he was the one who was chasing.

The new made Orc stepped away, taking his key out to unlock the door.  His motions were jerky and quick, never looking at Bolg’s face as he worked the lock open. Shelves lined the wall to the right of the struggling man full of different kinds of soap and lube, as one or two of the women had poisoned themselves with it.  He looked over the Orc who quickly backed up with his head still down.

“Look at me.” Bolg grunted, feeling his slashed mouth pulling to try and form the words correctly. “Tell me your name.”

He lifted his head, hunching his shoulders forward. Common green eyes of no particular shade flickered across Bolg’s face, seeing all yet showing no reaction. His shaved head gleamed in the streaming sunlight behind him. The black netting glared from pale cheeks anchored under his eyes and at the corner of his mouth. He had wanted to impress the Spiders with so obvious tag on his person. Good straight uniform, looked pressed in razor cut lines. This Orc was eager to please, to advance by looking the part but was he a killer? 

“Ufthak” Came the soft reply, almost limp in delivery. Bolg didn’t have a lot of faith in limp soldiers. 

“Be waiting for me after I am finished. Call downstairs for a replacement.  I have plans to make and will need… assistance.”

Immediately, the Orc took out his phone and began typing with a sly smile. Bolg left him to it as he walked in and closed the door. The barracks style room that housed the women used for pleasure comprised of a good portion of the upper floor. The cots were grouped at one end with an open cupboard for clothes and towels.  A locker style shower with three heads tiled a corner at the opposite side of the room.  Two utilitarian metal toilets and pedestal sinks were bolted to the floor and walls so that they couldn’t be used as weapons.

The door had creaked a little on the swing, slicing the female chatter in half. Six women lay huddled in clumps on the floor, wearing only long tank dresses.  The color might have been white at one time, now dried with food, blood and other stains that might be semen.  Four of them looked scared, siddling away from him as he approached. There was an odor in the air, something like stale sweat and piss.  He had heard one or two of the Orcs would yank a woman into the shower area, scrubbing her down first before fucking them on the floor before the others.  His father’s meat was in a separate cell in the playroom of devices across the hall.

The younger of the two imported girls possessed a fiery and spirited disposition. Bolg had to wrestle her over a table when last he took her, pinning her hands above her head to hold her still.  It was a shock to find her dripping like she was made of water after so fierce a struggle to get there. Her screams of pleasure had been just as loud as her companion when Bolg beat her first before the fucking. Such odd people those Andorrans. 

The origins of the other four females were a mystery, something that didn’t matter.  They had holes to be filled, a housing for which a man might take his pleasure.  Nothing more. The dull expressions of destroyed life bothered him not in the least.  Their heads was shaved like the Orcs, close to the skin. It was found that they smelled less if they had no hair. Most didn’t take care of it anyway so shaming them with the buzz cut never registered.  Only the new Spanish women were groomed, their hair braided into thick ropes down their back. 

“You!” He pointed to the older of the pair who rose from the others with twitching hips and a snappy walk.

Bolg wanted to give her his fury, all of his aggression. Looking at the darker skin, it was hard to picture Sigrid’s face, her body over this meat’s. Time had faded the exact features, leaving a dim sense of what his woman really looked like.  He burned for Sigrid, wanting her to beg to be adored by his mouth, hands and body. Only his pet would see the beauty behind his chaos.

He approached her, pushing the Andorran to her knees. The whimpering from her companions rose, yet the other girl watched lustfully.  He looked down at the female, enjoying the sight though she wasn’t the one he really wanted. Her breasts were full, the areolas a dark rose through the white material. Nipples ruched into tight buds, revealing her arousal. The meat extended her hand towards him, hoping to feel that skin of his belly on her fingertips. Bolg slapped her hand away before winding another hit across her face.  The crack of the sound hardened his dick a little more, the violence along with the pain he cause her. 

Unfortunately, the bitch grinned, her breath escaping in excited, short pants as she rubbed the sting on her cheek. A small dribble of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, the skin spitting at her teeth. He watched the redness on her chin in fascination.  All she could do moan as he unsheathed his thick cock, roughly shoving it down her throat. She helped him, pushing down his BDU pants until they sagged around his boots.

The female swallowed and swallowed, her tongue and teeth working his flesh.  He was endowed so her hand clasped the root, jacking him in synch with her mouth.  Her other hand grasped his balls, massaging them to work the cum into her mouth that much faster.  The sensations rolled over him in a tidal wave. The soft mouth, the wet tongue lashing his sensitive crest. He closed his eyes, imagining blond hair with the imagery he began with the female before him.

_Sigrid on her knees for him, smiling and begging for his cock._

_Sigrid_

_Sigrid leaning over a table, pulling back her ass checks for him to take her there._

_Sigrid_

Opening his eyes was a mistake, the sight of tan skin and dark features shredded his fantasy.  Angry and frustrated, Bolg wretched back his hips, yanking his dick from her hard working mouth. He struck her again, his hand making contact with her head and ear rather than the front of her face.

“Get up!” He bellowed at her while the others screamed in fear. “Lay down on the bed with that ass in the air. I don’t want to see your face!”

She climbed to her feet, giving him full view of her backside. Her progress was slower, trying to entice with swaying hips.  Bolg shoved her, grinning as she stumbled over to the bed.  He leaned over to grab his pants, letting the long curve of his cock hang out as he followed.  She spared him another look over her shoulder, a quick grin before turning away to raise her ass that much higher. He pressed against her, a small whimper vibrated her heavy swollen breasts. He couldn’t wait another second, desperate to end the ache inside.

She cried out against the fullness of him, her head dropping down as he yanked her hips closer. He sank all the way in and didn’t wait for her to catch her breath at the sudden invasion.  His fingers roughly dug into the flesh of her ass, kneading the skin with every hard stroke.

_So wet_

He never bothered with condoms, uncaring if she got pregnant.  If there was some kind of venereal disease, the Orc who spread it would lose their cock. His balls slapped her fuzzy lips in tandem with his grunts. Bolg could hear her making some kind of noise beneath him but really, he cared very little for her pleasure. The last time she hadn’t climaxed so she beat up one of the other women and sat on her face to lick her slit.  Bolg had watched it in spite of himself.  Then fucked one of the others after he became aroused by the screams. 

The curling approach of his orgasm punched out his breath as he sped up his thrusting. The twat got with the program, reaching between her legs to frig herself off. His balls, normally large and swinging low, drew up closer to his body as her fingers brushed the sensitive underside. When he came, Bolg’s whole body locked in place.  His dick jerked inside her cunt as the slick walls bore down from her own orgasm. The female ground back against him, moaning, trying to get every bit from him that she could.

His consciousness sputtered like a train, gathering speed, creating power with its momentum. With every second the force of him was coming back, the vicious vitality surging until he no longer looked weak at all. The void chewed on his bones, the heretical thought burned his brain, and he had no way to steady himself. An urge to scream and smash something gripped him.

This wasn’t want he wanted, this wasn’t the female he longed to have underneath him. Depression swamped him on the heels of his endorphins. He felt both weak and disgusted that he hadn’t left Mount Gundabad and taken what was his. Looking at the curvy back slumped before him, Bolg hated himself and hated Spaniard cunt, too, for the ruin they'd made of each other.

 

******

 0630 PM Central European Time

Twinkle Twinkle.. Kili thought as he set aside the round cut stone.  It was a standard filler as he called them, something that completed the design he was trying to achieve. The necklace swirled in flash of blinding diamonds and dull pearls. The metal lace construction had been the hardest to do, netting together to form a picture of scalloped shells.

It was a beautiful representation for the Greek shipping tycoon who wanted it for his current squeeze.  Kili snickered as he folded the prongs around a diamond, thinking to himself that had to be good pussy to rate this kind of bling.  Or maybe the purchaser had that kind of money to burn.

It had been a shock to come to Paris and find out his was a minor celebrity. His work that been photographed by buyers and put online, that he knew. Kili had never realized that it had the impact in Europe that it did. Van Cleef billed his work separately from the overall cost of the jewelry.  He wasn’t a rated designer yet, but it was a matter of time. Michel had let that little nugget slip over lunch one day when Kili was completely down about his life and the turn it had taken. 

It was humbling to say the least.  It made him wonder a few things about Thorin and his relationship with his family.  Had Thorin known about the attention his work had garnered?  There was a long list of questions that he would probably never get answered, just the like the emails he refused to answer from his uncle and others about moving back.  One thing was certain, the fat cats who had bought his work when he was at Erebor had gotten a bargain.

Seeing the time, Kili knew he had to wrap it up.  He needed some sleep before he walked his “girlfriend” to her morning gem class on the third floor. His own workstation was three levels above that in an incredibly secure room. Another decoy was found to be him for the morning entrance and evening exit. So far there hadn’t been anymore attempts that Faramir or Beth had told him. The Harad Espana had shown their hand too quick; now everyone was on alert.

He laid aside the tweezers for a minute to rub his tired eyes.  The long days plus the hectic nights were a bitch. Kili had gotten word through Beth, his new shadow, that Gloin’s wife had been killed in the blast. His heart stopped in his chest at the idea that his cousin’s wife was gone.  Gimli would be grief stricken, then viciously hostile.  He had loved his mother and she him.  Amali made the best cinnamon twists when he was a kid, serving them with a hug. It just hurt to think she was gone.

Blessings were few and far between, so he would take them were he could get them.  Tauriel was safe, it worried him that she might get caught in the crossfire. He could see a picture on his desk from the stool, a snapshot of the two of them at the Eiffel Tower. Kili adored how she always got so close to him, like Tauriel couldn’t stand the distance between them any more than he could. Like she craved being all over him. Like she couldn’t breathe when they weren’t touching. Because that was how he felt. He wanted to be the only real thing to Tauriel, just as Tauriel was the only real thing to him.

Looking across the lab table, a small envelop in its plan tan package lay unaddressed. Kili brought it with him to the lab when he worked, hoping to get a few moments with the piece. Pushing aside the plastic tray, he walked to the edge to open the manila flap. A thump of weight settled in the palm of his hand. Picking it up, he held the diamond chard to the light to get a good look at the light in the hard surface. One edge was clean, though the work was still in progress. Since it was Sigrid’s engagement ring, he had hoped to be further along with it. The setting itself would be roughly four carats when he was finished but he couldn’t do it overnight or it would burn flaws where there had been none.

Kli turned the shard around and around to watch the play of rainbows. It was from a stone that had built the Durinson Empire. For such a massive geode, there was something ugly about its flawlessness. It was too perfect, something otherworldly. He had never seen it in its uncut state; there were no pictures of it raw.  Kili had never asked who had sized and fashioned the cut but he knew it wasn’t Frerin who did the sizing.  The Arkenstone called to his uncle, made him want to go into the gemology field.  Kili hadn’t the same connection to gems but his artist’s eye could appreciate the metamorphoses.

Looking at the stone he had just placed, it was almost a letdown. The suite would be worth the effort, yet not as brilliant as the ring would be when he was finished. Even the shards of the Arkenstone were more chemically pure, flashing white fire where these stones looked like aged glass.    

The phone on his hip chirped, shaking him from his apathy. Swiping to answer, Kili merely grunted.

“Hello to you too!” Beth giggled in her singsong voice. “How much longer?”

“Give me fifteen.” Kili looked around at what he had left to put away.

“Make it ten so we can hit the somewhere for dinner before everything fills up. What you are wearing will do.”

“Yes, commander.” He snarked before hanging up then stashing the phone in his pocket.

The Arkenstone chip went back into the envelope and into his desk drawer locked cabinet. Some might complain about his choice of where he kept the stone, but no one knew about it expect Michel.  The keys thumped on the desk on a stack of forms that tracked the stones he used. Stripping off the plastic sleeves, Kili laid them on the desk before peeling off his lab coat. He snorted as he looked at his clothes.

The black Prada pants tailored his lack of height while the Burberry vest or _waistcoat_ as he was so snottily reminded in the store elongated his body into a sculpture.  At a distance, he looked tall, refined and very elegant. Man, it was a good thing he fought like a nasty bastard or he might have been taken for a light in his Harris Brogues. Fili could kiss his Dwarrow ass for call him a metrosexual thread humper, though.  He couldn’t help that he cleaned up better than his blond brother.

Funny, he hadn’t given a shit about his clothes when he rode with the MC. Now that he was in Gay Paree, he was working his walk in haute couture and loving it. Michel had a lot to do with that since Tauriel despised going to stores.  Fondling yards of fine black wool on a hanger and making appropriate “ahhhing” sounds wasn’t her idea of a good time. Kili’s either.  So yeah, like Fili, he was lucky he fought dirty.

Grabbing the mandatory scarf and black pea coat, Kili longed for a beer.  A beer and his woman. With the long length of wool around his neck, he stuffed his gloves into his pocket. Stacking the trays on top of each other, he headed for the Works vault where every suite was stored that was in progress. The guard gave him a cursory look, having picked up Kili’s habits. 

Another long night, another long day tomorrow. With no Tauriel anywhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I have been reading more of late and writing on other stories than this one.. I have vicious amounts of material for an Omegaverse Kiliel project.. and an Eomer Lothiriel sequel.. I love that pair
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to read.! I want to get back into this full swing but I keep seeing omega Tauriel and Alpha Kili everywere.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone who has stay with me ! Thank you! 
> 
> Thank you for reading ! All comments are welcome, so don't be shy! Writing in a modern text, I have shifted dialogue here and there for the sake of the story. Just a warning.
> 
> I own none of this.. My idea puppies are off their leash and running wild all over Middle Earth!


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